“What girl?”
I trembled, as I put the question: I was thinking of Lilian.
“That darnationed devil of a Chicasaw.”
“What! Su-wa-nee?”
“Yes—Su-wa-nee.”
“Oh—that cannot be? It could not be her?”
“So I’d a thort myself; but darn me, capt’n! if I kin b’lieve it wa’nt her. What I seed war as like her as two eggs.”
“What did you see?”
“Why, jest arter I’d killed the goat, an’ war heisting it on my shoulders, I spied a Injun glidin’ into the bushes. I seed it war a squaw; an’ jest the picter o’ the Chicasaw. She ’peared as ef she hed kim right from hyar, an’ I thort you must a seed her.”
“Did you get sight of her face?”