“Well, then, that’s settled; and now, Black Swan, I may as well tell you what coorse I mean to follow out in this sarch for my child’n. You know already that four white men—strangers—have come to the Fort, an’ are now smokin’ their pipes in the hall, but you don’t know that one on ’em is my own brother Jefferson; Jeff, I’ve bin used to call him. Jeff’s bin a harem-scarem feller all his life—active and able enough, an’ good natur’d too, but he never could stick to nothin’, an’ so he’s bin wanderin’ about the world till grey hairs have begun to show on him, without gettin’ a home or a wife. The last thing he tried was stokin’ a steamboat on the Mississippi; but the boat blew up, pitched a lot o’ the passengers into the water, an’ the rest o’ them into the next world. Jeff was always in luck with his life; he’s lost everythin’ over an’ over again but that. He was one o’ the lot as was blowed into the water, so, when he come up he swamed ashore, an’ come straight away here to visit me, bringin’ three o’ the blowed-up passengers with him. The three are somethin’ like himself; good for nothin’; an’ I’d rather have their room than their company at most times. Hows’ever, just at this time I’m very glad they’ve come, for I’ll leave them in charge o’ the Fort, and set off to look for the child’n in two days from this. I’ll take Walter and Larry wi’ me, for brother Jeff is able enough to manage the trade if redskins come; he can fight too, if need be. The Gore family could always do that, so ye needn’t be afraid, Molly.”
“I’ll not be afraid, Robin, but I’ll be anxious about ye.”
“That’s nat’ral, lass, but it can’t be helped. Well, then,” continued Robin, “the five of us will start for the Black Hills. I’ve bin told by a redskin who comed here last week that he an’ his tribe had had a scrimmage with Hawk an’ the reptiles that follow him. He says that there was a white boy an’ a white girl with Hawk’s party, an’ from his account of ’em I’m sartin sure it’s my Roy and Nelly. God help ’em! ‘but,’ says he, ‘they made their escape durin’ the attack, an’ we followed our enemies so far that we didn’t think it worth while to return to look for ’em, so I’m convinced they made for the Black Hills, nigh which Hawk was attacked, an’ if we follow ’em up there we may find ’em alive yet, mayhap.’”
Poor Robin’s voice became deeper and less animated as he spoke, and the last word was uttered with hesitation and in a whisper.
“O Robin, Robin!” exclaimed Mrs Gore, throwing her arms suddenly round her husband’s neck, and hiding her sobbing face in his breast, “d’ye think they can still be alive?”
“Come, Molly,” said Robin, commanding his feelings with a great effort, “han’t ye often read to me that wi’ God all things is possible?”
The poor woman thanked God in her heart, for up to that day Robin had never once quoted Scripture in his efforts to comfort her.
“Was Wapaw with Hawk when they were attacked?” inquired the Black Swan.
“Wapaw is dead,” said a deep voice, as the huge form of a western hunter darkened the little doorway, and the next moment Slugs strode into the store, and quietly seated himself on the counter.
“Dead!” exclaimed Robin, as he shook the hunter’s proffered hand.