“But who are they? And for what reason?”
“Do not ask, chepawnee! There is not time. Enough if I tell you, you are owner of a rich plantation, where black men make the blue dye. You have a fair sister—very fair. Is she not like a beam from yonder moon? And I was fair once—so he said. Ah! it is bad to be beautiful Ho, ho, ho!
“Why did I trust in a pale-faced lover?
Ho, ho, ho! Why did I meet him—
“Hulwak!” she exclaimed, again suddenly breaking off the strain: “I am mad; but I remember. Go! begone! I tell you, go: you are but an echochee (fawn), and the hunters are upon your trail. Back to the topekee—go! go!”
“I cannot, Ewa; I am here for a purpose; I must remain till some one comes.”
“Till some one comes! hulwak! they will come soon.”
“Who?”
“Your enemies—they who would kill you; and then the pretty doe will bleed—her poor heart will bleed: she will go mad—she will be like Haj-Ewa.”
“Whom do you speak of?”
“Of—Hush! hush! hush! It is too late—they come—they come! see their shadows upon the water!”