"You do not know the Redskin," was the grave answer.
"You heard my father say he couldn't spare a man. How much more use I would be if I brought help than stayed here and perhaps shot a couple of Indians, who might overpower us by their numbers. I was wondering if Golightly and the woods would be a shorter way than my canoe and the river?"
He had both her hands in his, and was looking down into her eyes.
"The woods and Golightly would be the swiftest way to communicate with us in the village."
"Then if need be I shall do it."
"Take the right-hand track straight through the wood, and God protect you, Rosalind. My house will be the first one you will come to. Let me be the first to spring to your aid. No man will step into the stirrup with greater alacrity than I. But, please God, there may be no need for you to go."
He lifted her hands to his lips and was gone.
Two days passed and nothing of moment happened. But on the evening of the third, two men in McArthur's employ entered the house breathless with excitement. Feathertop—an Indian chief noted for the number of scalps which adorned his person—had been seen in the vicinity of the small settlement.
McArthur, with a grim fixedness of countenance, saw to the priming of his rifle for the fiftieth time; and Rosalind, with her father's courage, examined her own weapon, which she had resolved to take with her for safety if Golightly had to be requisitioned.
"Rosalind, those chaps will be on us to-night or to-morrow morning."