Part 34 (2/2)
Cornstalk eyed me menacingly.
”They will not because they have old women among them. They put their powder in bags, and put the bags in caves. Their powder is spoiled. After I whip your army the Cherokees will carry their axes into the Carolinas.”
I believed the Cherokees would do this, if our army were whipped. Turning to Black Hoof, Cornstalk asked:
”How long before you roast this white man?”
”After we have whipped the army of Dunmore and Lewis and Boone. Now he waits on the medicine-woman. After the battle there will be many white women to wait on her.”
I was dismissed and on reaching the open air I discovered I had left all my apathy behind me. The importance of time and the imperative need of immediate action was burned into my brain by Black Hoof's words. I sought Patricia and found her seated on the bank, staring into the sluggish waters.
”I was thinking of you, Basdel,” she greeted, and she reached her hand to me. ”I was remembering what I said in Salem about your rifle. I'm sorry. I did wrong.”
”Heavens, child! Abuse the rifle all you will!”
”It was abuse of you and of all that your rifle stood for. I mocked you because you were from the border. Poor father! He knew many Indians, but he did not understand them. Town ways seem mighty small and of no account now.”
”Patsy, you must get a grip on yourself. We must get clear of this village at once. We must get back to Virginia.”
She s.h.i.+vered and her eyes dilated as she stared at me and she muttered:
”I dread the woods, the silence, the darkness. The wolves howling at night. Worst of all is the creeping horror of being chased. No! No! I can't stand any more, Basdel. The black horror comes over me when I let myself think of it. The dank woods--the silence--the awful stealth of night. No, no, Basdel. Let me die here.”
”Patsy, grip yourself! You can't stay among these beggars. They think you are insane. That's why they've spared you. But there's going to be a battle soon. If they win they'll bring many prisoners here. You must not be here then.”
She interrupted me with a little heart-broken cry and clapped her hands to her eyes to blot out some horrid picture. It was harsh, but the way she was inclining led to permanent madness.
”We will steal away and make the Ohio. The Indians are busy planning for the big battle. They'll not spare many men to seek us. I will take you back to Virginia and across the mountains.”
”Or we will both die,” she whispered. ”That wouldn't be bad. To die and be out of it all--But I mustn't speak for you, Basdel.”
”You speak for both of us,” I comforted. ”Death isn't terrible. This is.”
And I swept my hand in a half-circle at the Shawnee wigwams forming the village. ”Say nothing to Cousin's sister. I will make my plans at once. A gun, some powder and lead, and then we will go.”
”And never come back to them alive?” she insisted, and she leaned forward and stared intently into my eyes.
”Never alive, sweetheart.”
”That is much better,” she quietly remarked. ”And here comes my sister.
She has been very good to me. I wish we could take her with us. Over the mountains, or to death.”
”She refused to go over the mountains with her brother. We must tell her nothing,” I warned.
Lost Sister gave me a quick glance as she came up. She gazed at Patricia in silence for a moment, then warned:
”The white woman must keep close to her manito. The eyes of the eagle and the ears of the fox are in this village.”
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