“As true as Gospel,” replied the old man, looking fixedly at the red-skins.
“In the name of heaven, then, what is to be done?” demanded Hammond, in desperation.
“Nothin’,” was the reply of Tom, who had something of the Indian stoicism in the presence of the inevitable. “I ax only one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That I could say good-by to the old woman and little ones at home afore I go under,” he answered, as he drew his hand across his eyes; “but it’s no use.”
“Lamora,” said Hammond, suddenly turning toward the fair girl, “what will become of you?”
“I do not think they will harm me,” she replied. “I am known to many, and will probably be restored to Kipwan after—”
“After we are dead.”
“No—no, don’t say that,” she said, with a quivering lip.
“But you see no hope for us?”