“She won’t come,” answered Charlie; “she don’t like you, and I can’t make her.”
“So you have been saying a word in my favour, have you?” said Robert, a little sarcastically. “Greatly obliged to you, Master Charlie, but I prefer doing my own pleading.”
“I didn’t mean you,” said Charlie, a little indignantly. “She don’t know that there is such a thing as you. I meant all the white folks.”
“Oh, you did,” answered Robert, looking wistfully in the direction where Orianna had disappeared.
At that moment there was the report of a rifle, and a ball passed between him and Charlie and lodged in a tree a few feet distant.
“So he,” exclaimed Robert, “wasn’t content with sending an arrow at my heart, but must hurl a bullet at my head.”
Charlie was confounded. He never for a moment doubted that Orianna had sent the ball, and a fearful distrust of her filled his heart. A week went by, and still he neglected to take his accustomed walk, although he noticed that Robert went daily in his stead.
At length one morning Robert came to him and said, “Orianna bade me tell you that each day, ’neath the buckeye tree, she’s watched for you in vain.”
Charlie’s eyes opened wide with astonishment, as he exclaimed, “Orianna? Where have you seen Orianna?”
“Where should I see her, pray, but in the woods?” answered Robert. “We have spent the last five days together there, and I have taken your place as teacher.”