“Why not? I often do it. What have I to fear? The wolves and panthers are hunted out, and White Fox is too swift either for a bear or an alligator.”
“There are creatures to be encountered in the woods more dangerous than wild beasts.”
I watched her countenance as I made the remark, but I saw not the slightest change.
“What creatures, George?” she asked in a drawling tone, imitating that in which I had spoken.
“Redskins—Indians,” I answered abruptly.
“Nonsense, brother; there are no Indians in this neighbourhood—at least,” added she with marked hesitation, “none that we need fear. Did I not write to tell you so? You are fresh from the hostile ground, where I suppose there is an Indian in every bush; but remember, Geordy, you have travelled a long way, and unless you have brought the savages with you, you will find none here. So, gentlemen, you may go to sleep to-night without fear of being awakened by the Yo-ho-ehee.”
“Is that so certain, Miss Randolph?” inquired Gallagher, now joining in the conversation, and no longer “broguing” it. “Your brother and I have reason to believe that some, who have already raised the war-cry, are not so far off from the settlements of the Suwanee.”
“Miss Randolph! Ha, ha, ha! Why Mister Gallagher, where did you learn that respectful appellative? It is so distant you must have fetched it a long way. It used to be Virginia, and Virgine, and Virginny, and simple ’Gin—for which last I could have spitted you, Mister Gallagher, and would, had you not given up calling me so. What’s the matter? It is just three months since we—that is, you and I, Mister Gallagher—met last; and scarcely two since Geordy and I parted; and now you are both here—one talking as solemnly as Solon, the other as soberly as Socrates! George, I presume, after another spell of absence, will be styling me Miss Randolph—I suppose that’s the fashion at the fort. Come, fellows,” she added, striking the balustrade with her whip, “your minds and your mouths, and give me the reason of this wonderful ‘transmogrification,’ for by my word, you shall not eat till you do!”
The relation in which Gallagher stood to my sister requires a little explanation. He was not new either to her or my mother. During their sojourn in the north, he had met them both; but the former often. As my almost constant companion, he had ample opportunity of becoming acquainted with Virginia; and he had, in reality, grown well acquainted with her. They met on the most familiar terms—even to using the diminutives of each other’s names; and I could understand why my sister regarded “Miss Randolph” as a rather distant mode of address; but I understood, also, why he had thus addressed her.
There was a period when I believed my friend in love with Virginia; that was shortly after their introduction to each other. But as time wore on, I ceased to have this belief. Their behaviour was not that of lovers—at least, according to my notion. They were too friendly to be in love. They used to romp together, and read comic books, and laugh, and chatter by the hour about trivial things, and call each other jack-names, and the like. In fact, it was a rare thing to hear them either talk or act soberly when in each other’s company. All this was so different from my ideas of how two lovers would act—so different from the way in which I should have acted—that I gave up the fancy I had held, and afterwards regarded them as two beings whose characters had a certain correspondence, and whose hearts were in unison for friendship, but not for love.