And Roland had to climb down and say simply:
"Come here, friend, and speak."
Brawn rushed forward now, but he looked a terror, for his hair was all on end like a hyena's, and he growled low but fiercely.
"Down, Brawn! It's a good man, Brawn."
Brawn smelt the Indian's hand, and, seeming satisfied, went back to the spot where Peggy sat wondering and frightened.
She gathered the great dog to her breast and hugged and kissed him.
"What foh you poh chillun sleepee all in de wood so? S'pose wild beas' come eatee you, w'at den you do?"
"But, friend," replied Roland, "we are far from Burnley Hall, our home, and we have lost everything. We have lost our ponies, lost our way, and lost ourselves."
"Poh chillun!" said this strange being. "But now go sleepee foh true. De Indian he lie on blanket. He watchee till de big sun rise."
"Can we trust him, Peggy?"