“And then you married her,” said Percival.
“Married her! no, boy, I never married her; what has an old man of nearly seventy to do with marrying? They call her my squaw, because they suppose she is my wife, and she does the duty of a wife to me; but if they were to call her my daughter, they would be nearer the mark, for I have been a father to her.”
“Well, Malachi, to tell you the truth, I did think that she was too young to be your wife,” said Emma.
“Well, miss, you were not far wrong,” replied the old man. “I do wish I could find out her tribe, but I never have been able, and indeed, from what I can learn, the party who were surprised came a long way from this, although speaking the same language; and I don’t think there is any chance now, for even if I were to try to discover it, there have been so many surprises and so much slaughter within these last twenty years, that it’s scarcely possible the search would be attended with success.”
“But why do you wish to find out her tribe?” said Mary.
“Because I’m an old man, miss, and must soon expect to be gathered to my fathers, and then this poor little girl will be quite alone, unless I can marry her to some one before I die: and if I do marry her, why then she will leave me alone; but that can’t be helped, I’m an old man, and what does it matter?”
“It matters a great deal, Malachi,” said Mr Campbell; “I wish you would live with us; you would then be taken care of if you required it, and not die alone in the wilderness.”
“And the Strawberry shall never want friends or a home while we can offer her one, Malachi,” said Mrs Campbell; “let what will happen to you, she will be welcome to live here and die here, if she will remain.”
Malachi made no reply; he was in deep thought, resting his chin upon his hands which held his rifle before him. Mrs Campbell and the girls were obliged to leave to prepare the dinner. John had sat down with the Strawberry and the Indian woman, and was listening to them, for he now understood the Chippeway tongue. Alfred, Sinclair, and the other gentlemen of the party, were in conversation near the fire, when they were requested by Mrs Campbell to retreat to the sitting-room, that the culinary operations might not be interfered with. Malachi Bone still continued sitting where he was, in deep thought. Martin, who remained, said to the Misses Percival in a low voice—
“Well, I really did think that the old man had married the girl, and I thought it was a pity,” continued he, looking towards the Strawberry, “for she is very young and very handsome for a squaw.”