“No, I think we can fall on some better plan.”
“Then give it to us.”
“The only hope I see,” said Earth, “of finding the maiden, is to go up the Wabash, and learn where the gathering is, of which the Prophet spoke. The party he said were probably going there, and I think so too. If we can hear any thing of them, we will get some help and rescue her. This is the best plan that I know of, and if you say so, we will go along at once.”
“Thank you, Earth,” said Rolfe, “I will trust every thing to you, you know best what to do. But think you they will kill her?”
“No,” answered Earth, “if they intended to kill her, why didn't they do it at the river? it would have saved them a good deal of trouble. No, they will give her to some old squaw, who will perhaps take her in the place of a child she has lost.”
“Then, Earth, let's go, for I am almost dead to know something more about her.”
“Agreed,” said he, “but I think you are scaring yourself before you are hurt. I don't believe it's the same gal you think it is. But it makes no difference, Rolfe, who she is, if we can help her, we ought to do it; and I am determined to go on.”
“Earth, the more I think of it, the more sure am I, that she is the same, for in no other way can I account for finding my handkerchief.”
“Well, now there are forty ways in which I can account for it,” said Earth, “she might have lost it, or some other gal might have stole it, or some servant might have wiped it up, or she might have give it away, or,”—
“Stop, Earth,” said Rolfe, shaking his head sorrowfully, “I don't believe she would have done that.”