"Let's set to work and repair damages then, if we don't want the cattle to go thirsty to-night. By the time we're ready for a start, I hope your horse will stray along, Wolfe."
"If he don't you needn't mind me. We'll overtake you soon enough if he does get back. And if he don't, I've spent many a night in worse places than this."
"P'raps part of us better go on," suggested one of the emigrants. "We can choose the camp, build the fire, and be getting things comfortable for the rest. It's like we'll kill a buffalo, and have a j'int roasted by the time you come up."
"I'd advise you not to part your forces," said Nat, quietly. "There's Indians about, and they're not particularly friendly. But don't be frightened, child," he added, as he saw Elizabeth grow pale again. "I don't think they'll venture upon any thing worse than begging. They're a set of thieves and beggars."
"If there's any thing in the world I mortally dread, it's Indians," she answered, in a low voice.
"These Indians are not the kind you read about—fierce warriors hanging to their horses' sides and hurling their poisoned arrows—they're a sneaking and dirty set of rascals who'd murder you if they dared. But they won't dare. They're afraid of Uncle Sam—and your party is too large and too well armed."
The men hastened away to see about the broken axle, while the young girl lingered a moment, looking at Nat wistfully.
"But you," said she, "will not you be afraid to stay here alone all night, waiting for your horse?"
"Afraid?"
A curious smile flashed over the hunter's face as he echoed the word; she read its meaning, blushed, and continued: