“Not so much at the whooping as I was at the firing,” she replied. “I have been so long with the Indians, that I have become familiarized to all their customs. They often whoop in their games and amusements, and therefore, to me it was not so startling as it was to Richard. He was most frightened, and wished often for you. But tell me, and I almost fear to ask, how many have fallen?”
“Ah!” said Earth, “we had better not talk about that; it is mighty bad; we can't yet tell how many?”
“How many Indians?” said Rolfe.
“That we can't tell either,” said Earth.
“Did Oloompa fall?” inquired Gay.
“I don't know,” said Earth, “I saw him last night, after I left you; but we will talk of that another time. We are now just going within the camp.”
“Earth, I wish you would try and get permission for us to enter a tent; for Gay is tired to death, and would not like to be gazed at and harassed with questions now.”
“Do, for Heaven's sake,” she added, “for, indeed, I am worn with fatigue, and now, if I only knew that Miskwa and her mother were safe, I should be happy.”
“Happy! Gay;”—said Rolfe, “see there, they are burying the dead.”
“Richard, I only mean as happy as one can be, situated as I am,” she replied.