She stretched forth her hand and took the package.
This done, she essayed once more to move past the negro in order to return to the hill.
Crookleg, however, still blocking up the path, made no movement to give way to her.
He had evidently something more to say.
“Lookee hyar,” he continued, “I war bid to tell the lubbly Injun lady that the gen’l’m’n wud be at dis berry spot to-morrow mornin’ early to meet her, and I war ’tickler told say dat it war private, and not to be told no ’quisitive folks wat might want to know. Now I think,” here Crookleg took off his tattered hat and scratched his wool. “Yes! dats all dis nigga war tole to say—yes, dats all.”
Without waiting for a reply, the monstrosity made a pirouette, then a bound, and disappeared so suddenly, that he was gone before Sansuta could recover from her surprise.
Once assured that she was alone, the maiden hastened to untie the bead-string around the package, and lay bare its contents.
Her glance fell upon a pair of showy ear-rings, and affixed to them a small slip of paper.
Though but an Indian maiden, the chief’s daughter had learnt to read.
By the last glimpse of departing twilight she read what was written on the paper.