"That is what I thought."
After taking a few steps, Red Cedar stopped, stretched out his arm to warn his comrades, and listened. After two or three minutes, he turned to his comrades and whispered—"Our retreat is cut off; people are walking on the trees, I heard branches creaking and leaves rustling."
They gazed at each other in terror.
"We will not despair," he went on, quickly, "all is not yet lost; let us go higher, and on one side, till they have passed; during that time, Nathan will amuse them; the Comanches rarely do an injury to a bear."
No one made any objection, so Sutter started first, and the monk followed. Ellen looked at her father sorrowfully. "I care not," she said.
"I say again, I will save you, child," he replied with great tenderness.
He took the maiden in his powerful arms, and laid her softly on his shoulder.
"Hold on," he muttered, "and fear nothing."
Then, with a dexterity and strength doubled by a father's love, the bandit seized the bough over his head with one hand, and disappeared in the foliage, after saying to his son: "Look out, Nathan, play your part cleverly, lad, our safety depends on you."
"Don't be frightened, old one," the young man replied, as he put on the bear's head; "I am not more stupid than an Indian; they will take me for their cousin."