This done, the Indians sat and stood about watching everything within reach, while we were in the unpleasantly helpless state of being unable to speak, or to make them understand, and in the more unpleasant or perilous position of being unable to grasp their intentions.
As the time went on my father appeared to grow more hopeful. He had evidently come to the conclusion that it was useless to attempt resistance, and he seemed to think that our friendly treatment might win the respect of these stern, morose-looking men. Then, all at once, I saw that his hopes were dashed. He looked at me wildly, and I saw the firelock he held tremble in his hand.
“Try and be firm, George,” he said, quietly, “and do not look as if I am saying anything serious to you,” he continued, laughing.
“I understand, father,” I said, cheerfully, though my heart kept giving great thumps against my ribs.
“Can you hear what I am saying, Morgan?” continued my father, pleasantly, and not appearing to pay the slightest attention to the Indians.
“Every word, sir; but it’s hard work, for I want to run indoors to try and comfort that poor woman who is trembling there.”
“So we all do,” said my father, and he looked quite merry; “but don’t look like that, man. It is inviting an attack if these men do mean evil.”
“Right, sir; I am quite laughing now,” said Morgan.
“Ah, that’s worse,” cried my father, “that ghastly grin will ruin us. There, listen to what I am saying. When these savages attack us, it will be in some treacherous way, so as to get the advantage of us without injury to themselves. If they do attack, never mind who goes down, the survivors must rush into the house and defend it to the last, for that poor woman’s sake. Fight hopefully if I am not with you; for as soon as firing begins it may bring help from the settlement.”
“Then why not fire at once, sir?” cried Morgan, earnestly.