“That Indians are clever as white men, and they’ve put us in the front rank to keep any one from firing at them.”
I saw it plainly enough now, for as we advanced, my father appeared at the window, and I saw a gun in his hand.
He started as he caught sight of us two prisoners, but feeling, I suppose, that any attempt at defence was useless under the circumstances, he left the window for a moment or two, and I heard his voice speaking. Then he reappeared, and climbed out of the window, the door being closed and fastened.
He stepped forward boldly with the firelock resting on his arm, and walked to where the Indians had halted, holding out his hand in token of friendship, but it was not taken, the Indians’ eyes running from him all over and about the place, as if they were astonished at what they saw.
“Tell me quickly,” said my father, “but be cool. Everything depends upon our treating them in a friendly way, and not being afraid.”
I told him how we had been surprised, and his face looked very grave as he listened.
“Well,” he said, “we are in their power. If I fired it might bring help, but it would be too late to benefit us; and for aught we know, the rest of the tribe may already be up in the settlement. Stay with them and don’t attempt to escape.”
The Indian chief watched us curiously as my father talked to me, and two of his men half started forward as my father turned away to go back to the house.
But a word from the chief checked them, and every eye was fixed upon the returning figure, as my father walked to the door, beat upon it, called Sarah to open, and then passed in.
The faces of the Indians were a study, but they preserved their stolid looks, and uttered a sigh of satisfaction as my father appeared again with such provisions as the place afforded, and proceeded to offer them to our visitors.