Rebecca, it was known, incurred little personal risk. She was of the tribe of the invaders; and vengeance upon the whites, and the spoliation of their goods, were the objects of the attack.
Scarcely had William reached his hiding-place when the chief of the small tribe of invaders presented himself at the door of Rebecca’s room, and demanded William.
“He is not in my room. Do you think men are to be found in my bed-chamber?”
“A white man may be found any where in time of danger,” said the savage. “But I do not care for the fellow; I want to know where Harris has hidden his goods—especially where he has concealed the rum.”
“I do not keep his goods nor hide his rum.”
“But you know where he hides them, and you shall tell me, or I—”
“Or you will kill me—kill a woman! Brave chief! Has the influence of the white man reduced our tribe to that?”
“I did not threaten you, Dahona; but I will strike where you can feel as keenly as on yourself. Tell me where these goods are secreted.”
“I will not; and you dare not take vengeance on me.”
“Look, Dahona, through yonder window!”