"Alas! my poor girl, Flying Eagle is far away at this moment, I am afraid; you will not find him."
The girl raised her head quickly. "Flying Eagle does not desert his friends," she said; "he is a great chief. Eglantine is proud to be his squaw. Let my brother suffer her to go. Eglantine has in her heart a little bird, that sings softly, and tells her where the Sachem is."
Don Miguel suffered from considerable perplexity; he could not consent to what the Indian girl asked him; he felt a repugnance to abandon the woman who had given them so many proofs of devotion since she had been among them. At this moment he felt a tap on his shoulder; he turned, and saw Marksman. "Let her go," he said; "she knows better than we do why she acts thus. The Redskins never do anything without a reason. Come, dear child, I will accompany you to the gate, and give you a horse."
"Go, then," Don Miguel said; "but remember that you leave us against my wish."
Eglantine smiled, and kissed the two ladies, merely whispering one word to them—"Courage!"
Then she followed Marksman.
"Poor, good creature!" Don Miguel muttered; "she wants to try and be of use to us again, I feel convinced." Then he turned to the ladies. "Niñas," he said to them, "regain your courage. We are numerous. Tomorrow, at sunrise, we shall start again, with no fear of being disturbed by the Indian marauders."
"Don Miguel," Doña Laura answered, with a sad smile, "you will try in vain to reassure us. We heard what the men said to each other: they are expecting an attack."
"Why not be frank with us, Don Miguel?" Doña Luisa added. "It is better to tell us openly in what position we are, and to what we are exposed."
"Good heavens! do I know it myself?" he replied. "I have taken all the necessary precautions to defend the hacienda to the last extremity, but I trust that our trail will not be discovered."