“Dear little brother,” I said, and extended my hand; but she pouted, and put her arms behind her.
“I am not your dear little brother,” she said, her lip trembling. “I am a savage. You gave your first joy to one of your race.” The pain in her face was deep.
“Forgive me, lad.” I was very humble, but her swimming eyes were turned away, and there was a swelling in her throat. What could I say? how make her understand? “Beelo, I———”
“It can’t be explained,” she interrupted, turning sadly away; and we went on in silence.
All at once, without any visible cause, she was her sunny, mischievous self again. I was exceedingly anxious for information,—what had become of the Hope’s salvable cargo; whether her seizure by us was part of the plan to which we were working. But I had not the courage to mention the vessel again, lest pain come to Beela’s face. Ever since her return from the valley I had been anxious for her report as to any plan of action that she had arranged with Captain Mason, and I now conjectured that she had deferred it until we should see our vessel. With a blunder in tact I had closed her lips.
“Now,” said she, “we’ll return and keep an eye on Mr. Vancouver. Do you think you know the settlement now and could make your way in the night through it?”
“Perfectly,” wondering at her impressiveness.
“And do you, Christopher?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Unmistakably she had a very intelligent purpose in thus making us acquainted with the topography of the settlement and the presence of our vessel. With that idea I began to make a closer study of the approaches and thoroughfares, although I could form no conception of means whereby the colony might use them against the overwhelming horde of armed natives. But Beela’s comely head was packed with shrewdness.