"And that is like to be her business," muttered Van Horn. "The painted forest-men are in the hills, and if Senecas, Cayugas, and Onondagas do not know it this night, it will be no fault of Catrine Montour."
"Ride on, Peter," said Dorothy, and checked her horse till my mare came abreast.
"Are you afraid?" I whispered.
"Afraid? No!" she said, astonished. "What should arouse fear in me?"
"Your common-sense!" I said, impatiently, irritated to rudeness by the shocking and unearthly spectacle which had nigh unnerved me. But she answered very sweetly:
"If I fear nothing, it is because there is nothing that I know of in the world to fright me. I remember," she added, gravely, "'A thousand shall fall at my side and ten thousand at my right hand. And it shall not come nigh me.' How can I fear, believing that?"
She leaned from her saddle and I saw her eyes searching my face in the darkness.
"Silly," she said, tenderly, "I have no fear save that you should prove unkind."
"Then give yourself to me, Dorothy," I said, holding her imprisoned.
"How can I? You have me."