"Will it be possible," the farmer asked Pearson, when night again
fell, "to go out and see if we can discover any traces of them?"
"Worse than no use," Pearson said positively. "We should just lose
our har without doing no good whatever. If the Injuns in these
woods--and I reckon altogether there's a good many hundred of
'em--can't find 'em, ye may swear that we can't. That's just what
they're hoping, that we'll be fools enough to put ourselves outside
the stockade. They'll lie close round all night, and a weasel
wouldn't creep through 'em. Ef I thought there was jest a shadow of
chance of finding them young uns I'd risk it; but there's no
chance--not a bit of it."
A vigilant watch was again kept up all night, but all was still and
quiet. The next morning the Indians were still round them.
"Don't ye fret, ma'am!" Pearson said, as he saw how pale and wan Mrs.
Welch looked in the morning light. "You may bet your last shilling
that they're not caught 'em."
"Why are you so sure?" Mrs. Welch asked. "They may be dead by this
time."
"Not they, ma'am! I'm as sartin as they're living and free as I am
that I'm standing here. I know these Injuns' ways. Ef they had caught
'em they'd jest have brought 'em here and would have fixed up two
posts, jest out of rifle range, and would have tied them there and
offered you the choice of giving up this place and your scalps or of
seeing them tortured and burned under your eyes. That's their way.
No, they aint caught 'em alive, nor they aint caught 'em dead
neither; for, ef they had they'd have brought their scalps to have
shown yer.
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