The captain was in the highest of spirits soon after, for Shanter, looking exceedingly important on his rough colt with his spear across his knees, rode slowly up, driving the whole of the sheep, pigs, and cattle, which made for their old quarters as quietly as if they had never been away, even another speared cow being among them, very little the worse for her wound in spite of the flies.
“Hah!” cried the captain, rubbing his hands as the party all sat at the evening meal; “and now, please Heaven, we can begin again and forget the past.”
A dead silence fell, and as the captain looked round he saw that the eyes of wife, daughter, and niece were fixed upon him sadly, and that Aunt Georgie’s countenance was very grim.
“Shall I speak, Henley?” said the doctor.
“If you please,” said that gentleman, with a glance at Ida.
“Then I will.—Captain Bedford,” said the doctor, “you will forgive me, sir, I know; but I must beg of you for the sake of the ladies to give up this out-of-the-way place, and come close, up to the settlement. We feel that we cannot leave you out here unprotected. Think of what would have happened if we had not arrived in the nick of time.”
There was a terrible silence, and Sam German, who was having his meal in the kitchen with Shanter, came to the door, every word having been audible.
At last the captain spoke in a low hoarse voice.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “I have thought of it all, till drawn both ways as I am, my brain seems almost on fire. I love my people as an Englishman should, and all my work has been for their sake. I would do anything to save them pain, but I ask you how can I give up this lovely home I have won from the wilderness—a place where Heaven smiles on a man’s labour, and I can see, with plenty of hard work, a happy contented life and prosperity for us all. I will not appeal to my dear wife and the girls, because I know they will say, ‘Do what you think best,’ but I do appeal to you, aunt. It is not fair to expose you to such risks. Shall I give up? Shall I, after putting my hand to the plough, want faith and go back?”
“I do wish you wouldn’t ask me such things, Ned, my boy,” cried Aunt Georgie, taking out her handkerchief to wipe her glasses. “Give up, now we are all so settled and comfortable and happy, all for the sake of a pack of savages? I’ll learn how to shoot first. I say, no! boy, no!”