“So I will, mother,” said Carrie. “I am very hot and sleepy.”
She lay down, and her mother tenderly placed a cushion under the little, weary head.
Soon Carrie was wrapped in the deep, unconscious sleep of childhood. The Indian, with a look of satisfaction, beheld her repose, as he stole a glance through the window.
Soon Mrs. Taylor thought of a direction she wished to give Jane. Glancing at little Carrie, she left the room, knowing that the child would not miss her.
No sooner had she left the room than the Indian, who had been waiting for this, sprang in through the open window, clasped the unconscious child in his arms, whose slumber was too profound to be disturbed even by this action, and in a moment was out on the lawn, speeding rapidly away with the little girl in his arms.
Suspecting no harm, Mrs. Taylor remained absent for fifteen minutes, then returning, her first glance was at the sofa, where she had left Carrie. Her heart gave a sudden bound when she discovered her absence. But even then she did not suspect the truth. She thought the child might have waked up, and gone upstairs.{169}
“Carrie! Carrie!” she called out, in the greatest uncertainty and alarm.
But there was no answer.
She summoned Jane, and together they hunted high and low for the little girl, but in vain.
Then first a suspicion of the truth came to her.