As yet, you must understand, Rosemary and her brother were unaware of the identity of the attackers.
Rosemary started up from where she was sitting in their extemporized and miserable prison cave. It was evidently her intention to put into operation at once her desperate plan.
"Wait a minute!" exclaimed her brother.
"What for?" she questioned.
"I'm not so sure that it is the best thing to do," he answered.
Floyd was rather less impulsive than his sister—that is on occasions.
There were times when he could be more hot headed.
"Well, what else is there to do?" Rosemary asked.
She was going to be perfectly fair about it, and if Floyd had anything better to offer as a suggestion she would listen to him.
"Let's think about it a bit longer," he finally said, with a long intaking of breath, which told more plainly than words, how the situation was oppressing him. "I'm sure it's mighty plucky of you, Rosemary, to lay out such a plan as this, but I don't believe I ought to let you try it. Something might happen."
"Something is going to happen anyhow," she said, with ominous quiet, and a grim tightness showed in the lines of her mouth. "I believe these Indians have just about reached the end of their rope. They have been very patient with us—that is patient from their standpoint. Now they have met with opposition, and they must know if they are overpowered it will be to our advantage, and that our friends, or whoever is out there firing, will take revenge."