"Thy father has gone away, dear child," she whispered in her soft, motherly voice. "But thee must be very brave for thy poor young mother's sake. Thou must help her to bear it."
The child uttered a wild sob, then fled to her mother and clasped her arms about her neck.
They clung to each other sobbing bitterly for a time. The boys turned away, and Joe found a lump too big to swallow choking his throat.
After a time Joshua Peniman bent to the woman tenderly.
"Was thy husband ill, my child?" he asked gently.
"Oh yes, yes, very ill," she answered between her sobs. "They told me he had tuberculosis. He was a writer. You must have heard of him. The doctors sent us out West. They told him to get a wagon and spend the whole summer traveling across the plains. We were on our way to Colorado for his health. We have been out three weeks, and he was better, oh, very, very much better. And then yesterday we were driving along near a creek and some Indians set upon us——"
"Indians?" cried Joshua Peniman, remembering that the dying man had answered his question with a shake of the head.
"Yes, Indians—a whole band of them. They began shooting at us. Nina and I happened to be inside the wagon, but Lee—my poor Lee—was on the driver's seat. I don't know when he was hit. I don't know that he knew himself. He shouted out to me to hide, and to hide Nina, and I did, I hid her under the blankets beneath the seat——"
"And you are sure it was Indians that attacked you?" asked Joshua Peniman, while a cold hand of terror clutched his wife's heart.
"Yes, I'm sure. I saw them. I heard them. Oh, they were horrible! Lee never made a sound when he was struck. All at once I saw him reel and totter on the seat, then he came tumbling backward, and I saw the arrow in his breast. I tried to pull it out, but I couldn't, and it bled fearfully, so I stopped. He was conscious then, and said, 'Drive—hurry—wagon ahead!' I got up on the seat and whipped up the horses and drove and drove as fast as I could make them go. The heat was terrible. I thought I should die. But I saw your tracks, and at last I saw the smoke of your fire and knew there was help at hand. I thought I should kill the horses, but I didn't care, all I could think of was help—help for my poor Lee!"