I don't see why we should be starved, even if we have got to be
killed to-night."
One of the party was left on watch on each side of the house, and the
others gathered in the room below, where a fire was lit and the strips
of dried deer flesh which they carried were soon frying over it. Harold
admired the air of indifference with which his companions set about
preparing the meat. Everyone was aware of the desperate nature of the
position, but no allusion was made to it. The negro had caught the
spirit of his companions, but his natural loquacity prevented his
imitating their habitual silence.
"Dis bad affair, Massa Harold," he said. "We jess like so many coons up
in tree, wid a whole pack ob dogs round us, and de hunters in de
distance coming up wid de guns. Dis chile reckon dat some ob dem hunters
will get hit hard before dey get us. Jake don't care one bit for
himself, massa, but he bery sorry to see you in such a fix."
"It can't be helped, Jake," Harold said as cheerfully as he could. "It
was my firing that shot which got us into it, and yet I cannot blame
myself. We could not stand by and see those ruffians murder a woman
and child."
"Dat's so, Massa Harold; dere was no possinbility of seeing dat. I
reckon dat when dose rascals come to climb de stairs dey'll find it are
bery hard work."
"I don't think they will try, Jake. They are more likely to heap
brushwood against the door and windows and set it alight, and then shoot
us down as we rush out.
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