“Do you think it possible for me to remain here safely until my father returns?”
“Don't know; daughter tell best when fader come back.” Mabel felt uneasy at the glance of June's dark eye as she uttered this; for the unpleasant surmise arose that her companion was endeavoring to discover a fact that might be useful to her own people, while it would lead to the destruction of her parent and his party. She was about to make an evasive answer, when a heavy push at the outer door suddenly drew all her thoughts to the immediate danger.
“They come!” she exclaimed. “Perhaps, June, it is my uncle or the Quartermaster. I cannot keep out even Mr. Muir at a moment like this.”
“Why no look? plenty loophole, made purpose.”
Mabel took the hint, and, going to one of the downward loops, that had been cut through the logs in the part that overhung the basement, she cautiously raised the little block that ordinarily filled the small hole, and caught a glance at what was passing at the door. The start and changing countenance told her companion that some of her own people were below.
“Red man,” said June, lifting a finger in admonition to be prudent.
“Four; and horrible in their paint and bloody trophies. Arrowhead is among them.”
June had moved to a corner, where several spare rifles had been deposited, and had already taken one into her hand, when the name of her husband appeared to arrest her movements. It was but for an instant, however, for she immediately went to the loop, and was about to thrust the muzzle of the piece through it, when a feeling of natural aversion induced Mabel to seize her arm.
“No, no, no, June!” said the latter; “not against your own husband, though my life be the penalty.”
“No hurt Arrowhead,” returned June, with a slight shudder, “no hurt red man at all. No fire at 'em; only scare.”