“The boat is still on the shore, but neither my uncle nor the Quartermaster is anywhere to be seen.”
“No kill, or June would see. Hide away! Red man hide; no shame for pale-face.”
“It is not the shame that I fear for them, but the opportunity. Your attack was awfully sudden, June!”
“Tuscarora!” returned the other, smiling with exultation at the dexterity of her husband. “Arrowhead great warrior!”
“You are too good and gentle for this sort of life, June; you cannot be happy in such scenes?”
June's countenance grew clouded, and Mabel fancied there was some of the savage fire of a chief in her frown as she answered,—
“Yengeese too greedy, take away all hunting-grounds; chase Six Nation from morning to night; wicked king, wicked people. Pale-face very bad.”
Mabel knew that, even in that distant day, there was much truth in this opinion, though she was too well instructed not to understand that the monarch, in this, as in a thousand other cases, was blamed for acts of which he was most probably ignorant. She felt the justice of the rebuke, therefore, too much to attempt an answer, and her thoughts naturally reverted to her own situation.
“And what am I to do, June?” she demanded. “It cannot be long before your people will assault this building.”
“Blockhouse good—got no scalp.”