Captain Sinclair took his leave, as it may be imagined, very reluctantly, and in a day or two the family again settled down to their usual occupations. The emigrants had, during the absence of the expedition, gathered in a great portion of the corn, and now all hands were employed in finishing the harvest.
“How happy we are now, Mary,” said Emma to her sister, as they were walking by the stream, watching John, who was catching trout.
“Yes, my dear Emma, we have had a lesson which will, I trust, prevent any future repining, if we have felt any, at our present position. The misery we have been rescued from has shewn us how much we have to be thankful for. We have nothing more to fear from the Indians, and I feel as if I could now pass the remainder of my life here in peace and thankfulness.”
“Not without Captain Sinclair?”
“Not always without him; the time will, I trust, come when I may reward him for his patience and his regard for me; but it has not yet come; and it is for my uncle and aunt to decide when it shall. Where’s Percival?”
“He is gone into the woods with Malachi, and with a rifle on his shoulder, of which he is not a little proud. John is not at all jealous. He says that Percival ought to know how to fire a rifle, and throw away that foolish bow and arrows. Do you not think that his residence among the Indians has made a great change in Percival?”
“A very great one; he is more manly and more taciturn; he appears to think more and talk less. But Henry is beckoning to us. Dinner is ready, and we must not keep hungry people waiting.”
“No,” replied Emma; “for in that case I should keep myself waiting.”