Oh, wouldn’t that be an exploit worth boasting of? Only let us have the opportunity, and see how quick we would attempt it!
We thought we knew right where to go to find the Indians. Most likely they were encamped on Deer Lake, about fifteen miles from the plantation.
We would go down there, dash into their camp like a squad of cavalry on the charge, and if we found that rascally Pete there, four of us would cover him with our guns; Sandy, being the largest and strongest in the party, would dismount and tie his hands behind his back; and we would bring him home with us, whether he was willing to come or not.
It would all be done before the Indians knew what was going on, and if they pursued us, or attempted to rescue Pete, we would keep them straight by pointing our guns at them.
Wasn’t that a glorious plan? and wouldn’t father and all the rest of the planters be astonished when they saw us and our captive?
We talked the matter over while we were dressing, and as soon as we were ready for the start, slung our guns over our shoulders, and dashed down the stairs like a lot of wild boys.
In the kitchen we met mother.
Now, according to my way of thinking, my mother was a model woman. She understood the nature of boys perfectly. She gave Mark and me all the privileges we deserved, and could not have sympathized with us more fully, or taken a deeper interest in our sports and pastimes, if she had been a boy herself.
She knew that we could not possibly stop to eat any breakfast while there was any thing exciting in prospect, and when we entered the kitchen, she handed us each a sandwich and a glass of milk.
“Now, boys,” said she, “don’t run any risks.”