“Even if I wished to stay, I could not,” I replied. “I have much to do over there. Unfinished work. I have promised Colonel Lewis to carry despatches when not scouting. If they can send some one to Fort Pitt in my place I shall serve as scout in the Clinch River Valley. The people down there are badly upset.”
“Well, giving yourself for others may be very Christian-like. One must decide for one’s self,” she said.
“The people over there help one another. They stand together. If I can help them, I shall be helping myself.”
“I wish my father could go there and make them see how silly they are,” she impatiently declared. “If they would only be friendly with the Indians! It is so simple——”
“I know a fellow about your age,” I broke in. “The Indians killed his people on Keeney’s Knob ten years ago and stole his little sister. He doesn’t know whether she is dead or a captive. His folks were friendly. They were butchered after making a feast for Cornstalk and his warriors. There are many such cases. It would do no good for your father to tell young Cousin and others, who happened to survive, that they are silly.”
“Do you mean they would resent it?” she demanded, her chin going up in a very regal manner.
“He could scarcely change their opinions,” I mumbled.
We were interrupted by a colored woman bustling in with Colonel Lewis’ servant in tow. The man bowed profoundly before Patsy and then informed me:
“Please, Massa Morris, de c’unel ’mires fo’ to see yo’ at de house right erway. I ’spects it’s business fo’ de gun’ner. De c’unel mos’ ’tic’lar dat say he wants to see yo’ to once. Yas, sah. Please, sah.”
I dismissed him with a word of my immediate attendance on the colonel. Then I gave my hand to Patsy and said: