“I could not help it, Rolfe, 'twas so good a chance. Moreover, I thought I might as well put him out of the way, that there would be one less, in case we have to take a brush.”
“I have no objection if any good is to result from it,” said Rolfe, “they are now seven to two, and I don't think we have gained much; I can't say that I liked it.”
“But, Rolfe, tell me, did you not think the operation was performed very neatly?”
“Yes, I must give you credit for that, Earth, it was certainly a very cool murder.”
“Oh! no, no, don't call it a murder, Rolfe, I only killed an Indian; it was over so quick with him, I didn't hurt him; he only said ‘humph!’”
“What did you do with the bundle he was carrying?”
“I hid it, thinking we would examine it on our return.”
“You did well, for from it we may learn the name of the family murdered. Earth, ever since I caught a glimpse of that poor girl's face to night, I have thought of nothing else; she is so much like her I loved, that if I could divine a reason for her father's having emigrated, I should think her the same. But her father was rich and happy; and surely he would never have left a quiet and peaceful home, for the wild woods of the west.”
“God only knows who she may be,” said Earth, “I pity her from the bottom of my soul, for she has suffered a thousand deaths to-night. You know she is a stranger to me, Rolfe, but if there be any such thing as truth, I would, to restore her to her friends, willingly take her place.”
“Poor girl!” said Rolfe, “she will never see her home again; doomed, perhaps, to the torture, or else to fill the office of some Indian squaw.”