“Very well, sir.”
“One thing more. There was some talk yesterday of my taking her across the neck to the forest. When she awakes, tell her from me that I am sorry for her to lose her pleasure, but that now she could not go even were I here to take her.”
“There 's no danger from the Paspaheghs there,” he muttered.
“The Paspaheghs happen not to be my only foes,” I said curtly. “Do as I bid you without remark. Tell her that I have good reasons for desiring her to remain within doors until my return. On no account whatever is she to venture without the garden.”
I gathered up the reins, and he stood back from the horse's head. When I had gone a few paces I drew rein, and, turning in my saddle, spoke to him across the dew-drenched grass. “This is a trust, Diccon,” I said.
The red came into his tanned face. He raised his hand and made our old military salute. “I understand it so, my captain,” he answered, and I rode away satisfied.
CHAPTER XIII IN WHICH THE SANTA TERESA DROPS DOWNSTREAM
AN hour's ride brought us to the block house standing within the forest, midway between the white plantations at Paspahegh and the village of the tribe. We found it well garrisoned, spies out, and the men inclined to make light of the black paint and the seething village.
Amongst them was Chanco the Christian. I called him to me, and we listened to his report with growing perturbation. “Thirty warriors!” I said, when he had finished. “And they are painted yellow as well as black, and have dashed their cheeks with puccoon: it's l'outrance, then! And the war dance is toward! If we are to pacify this hornets' nest, it's high time we set about it. Gentlemen of the block house, we are but twelve, and they may beat us back, in which case those that are left of us will fight it out with you here. Watch for us, therefore, and have a sally party ready. Forward, men!”