“Are there any lions in this wood?” she asked.
“Why ask?” said the Indian.
“If one came while you were asleep, he might eat me up.”
The Indian was quick-witted enough to avail himself of this fear to prevent the child’s leaving him.
“Suppose one come; you wake me. Me kill him.”
“Then there are lions here?” she repeated, terror-stricken.{177}
“Yes. Suppose you go away. Maybe meet him; he kill you.”
“I won’t go away,” said Carrie, quickly. “Are you sure you could kill one, if he came?”
“Yes; me kill many,” answered the Indian, with a disregard of truth more often to be found among civilized than barbarous nations.
Poor Carrie!—her sensations were by no means to be envied, as she sat by the side of the sleeping Indian, agitated by fears which, to her, were very real. On the one side was the Indian, on the other the lion who might spring upon her at any minute. From time to time she cast a terrified glance about her in search of the possible lion. She did not see him; but what was her delight when, as a result of one of these glances, she caught sight of a boy’s face—the face of Julius—peeping from behind a tree!