With a terrible cry Dale fell over on his side and remained unconscious. There was a second shriek, and the girl was pushing Black Hoof aside as she hastened to kneel by her father. The chief darted a glance of admiration at her for her display of courage. The girl was blind to our presence as she fondled and petted the stricken man until he opened his eyes. Black Hoof was pleased to have her there as a means of breaking down the trader’s will. Leaning over her shoulder to stare down into the terrified eyes of his victim the chief warned:
“Unless the settlers give themselves up it shall be as I have said. It must be before the sun goes down. Tell her all I have said.”
With that he dragged me back to my tree. For a few minutes the chief’s horrible threat dulled my mind to the point of stupidity. He waited for me to collect my thoughts. At last I managed to ask:
“What you said back there was a trick of course? You would never torture the daughter of the Pack-Horse-Man?”
“Unless he does as told she must die,” he calmly assured me. “She will die soon anyway. She is not strong enough to live our life, like the blue-eyed squaw over there.” And he glanced toward Cousin’s sister. “Her children would be neither red nor white. They would have squaw-hearts. If the trader does not speak words that will bring the settlers from their cabins with empty hands she shall be tortured until he does speak.”
I do not remember falling, yet I found myself on the ground, and Black Hoof had departed. In his place stood Ward, staring at me curiously.
“You went down as if hit with an ax,” he grunted.
“My legs are weak from hard travel and poor food,” I said.
Patricia Dale passed quite close to us, a gourd of water in her hands. She was carrying it to her father. Ward exclaimed in English:
“What a woman!”