The other observing her hesitation, and quite comprehending it, makes no inquiry about the cause. That is already declared in the dialogue lately overheard by her; and as he outside is likely to be listening, the two now take counsel together, speaking in whispers.
Nacena, from a better knowledge of the situation, is of course the chief adviser, and it ends in her determining to show a bold front, and pass out as if already armed with Shebotha’s permission. If interrupted, they can then make a rush for it. In short, after a hurried consultation, they can think of no other way, much less a better one. For by the shuffling of footsteps, and a wheezing noise—Shebotha’s slave being afflicted with asthma—they can tell that he is close by the entrance.
Soon as resolved how to act, the Indian girl, still holding the captive by the hand, leads her on to the door; and, passing over the threshold side by side, they present themselves to the sentry, Nacena saying:
“In going in I forgot to tell you my errand from Mam Shebotha. She bade me bring the paleface to where she is herself. You see, I am taking her.”
“You cannot take her out of the toldo,” rejoins the man in a tone of dogged denial. “You must not; Shebotha would kill me if I permitted it.”
“But I have Shebotha’s command to do so.”
“How am I to know that?”
“You forget what I have said, and what I’ve given you.”
She points to the strange rosary, which he had taken from her, and still retains—possibly as a voucher against any mistake that may arise.
“No, I don’t,” he rejoins, holding the string up before her eyes, and shaking it till the teeth rattle. “There it is; but withal, I can’t allow her, the paleface, to go with you. It might be as much as my life is worth.”