“Mother’ll be a-wonderin’ what’s become of me,” she said, “and she can’t send old Job down to see, cos she don’t want to be left by herself. I’m mighty glad you didn’t have a fight, but I was so afeard you was goin’ to be shot,” she said, addressing Chap, “that I jist clapped my sun-bonnet down over my eyes, and I didn’t know nothin’ what happened till I looked up and see you all dancin’ round and shakin’ hands. If any of you want anything to help camp, you can come up to the house and see if you can git it.”
And then with a nod which seemed to be made to the party in general, the girl ran home.
After half an hour of talk, our friends stowed themselves away in the cabin of The Rolling Stone, and the Indians made themselves as comfortable as possible on the sand at the edge of the woods.
The sand was dry, the air was mild, and these hardy red men were very glad to have a bed so smooth and soft.
“It is awful funny,” said Chap, before he went to sleep, “to think that I was leading a band of Indians through the woods to pounce down on you fellows. And yet, when I come to think of it, I wasn’t leading them so very much, either. Seems to me the people down this way don’t have the right idea of what a captain ought to be.”
“Do you mean us?” said Phil, who shared the narrow bed.
“Well, I don’t know,” answered Chap. “Your notions do seem to be a little loose; but I guess I’ll get you better disciplined after a while.”
“All right,” said Phil.
And he went to sleep.
