f 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 shivered 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