“No.”
“And there is for you; thank heaven for that!” was the fervent exclamation of the young lover. “Lamora, the future was all sunshine to us, but the night has come sooner than we expected. Go back to your Indian friends again, for, after I am gone, you will find none so faithful. Bear me in remembrance, and I shall await your coming from the other shore.”
“Don’t—don’t,” plead the poor girl, bravely striving to keep up.
“Keep near me, Lamora, for when my last moment comes, as come it must, let my last glance be fixed upon you—”
“Stop! stop!” she wailed, “or you will break my heart.” The Blackfeet took the matter quite leisurely. They had the whites in their power, and they indulged in a few whoops, by way of giving vent to their exultation, but still they made no immediate demonstration.
“There is no need of standing here,” said Hammond, a few minutes later, “huddled together like a parcel of sheep, waiting to be shot down. Can one not make terms with them?”
“What’ll you offer?” was the pertinent response of old Stebbins.
“Suppose I go forward, and voluntarily surrender the whole party, what then?”
“If its any enj’yment to you, yer kin do it. Them Blackfeet ain’t used to that kind of business, and bein’ as we bored a hole in one of ’em yesterday, I don’t think it’s likely they’ll think this ar’ a good time to begin; howsumever—”