“Yes;” replied I, “I think they will; but if you wish to talk, we had better retreat to the fire-place: there we shall be safe from any shot.”
We retreated to the fire-place, and sat down on the ashes; it just held us both, and my mistress took this opportunity of embracing me, saying—“Dear Alexander, if I had a thousand lives, I would sacrifice them for you.”
“We have but one,” replied I, “and that one I will devote for your defence; I can do no more.”
“Who did you fire at?” said she.
“The chief, as I believe, who was on the hill giving orders. He fell; and I think that he fell dead.”
“Then depend upon it they will retreat,” said she.
“I think not; they will be revenged, if they possibly can; and we must expect a hard fight for it.”
“Why, what can they do? They never can break through the door, and when daylight comes we can shoot them by dozens.”
“Depend upon it,” said I, “they will try to burn us out. The wind is high, which is all in their favour, and I suspect they are now gone to collect fire-wood.”
“And if they do fire the cabin, what shall we do? I never thought of that.”