"Do you want me to befriend you?" asked the renegade, bending his head
down close to the scared countenance of Maggie Brainerd, smiling and
trying to speak in so low a voice that no one else could catch his
words.
"Of course I do; don't you see what danger we are in? Oh, Mr. Golcher--"
"Don't _Mister_ me," he interrupted, with a reproving grin; "call me
_Jake_."
"Oh, Jake, have you seen anything of father?"
"Where would I see him?"
"Why, he went out with the rest to fight the Indians and Tories, and you
were with them."
"Oh, yes; I did see him," said Golcher, as though the incident was so
slight that he had forgotten it for the time: "he fought well."
"Was he--was he--Oh, Jake, tell me?--was he _hurt_?"
"I don't think he got so much as a scratch; he was with three or four
others, and they were getting in the best kind of work; but you know it
was no use for any one; I saw that they would be shot down where they
stood, so I ran up and told your father to follow me; you know that
nobody dare touch him when _I_ took charge. I led him and his friends
back toward the mountains and stayed by them till all danger was over,
and then I bade them good-bye: if they have taken the least care and
done as I told them to do, they are a great deal safer than _you_ are at
this very minute."
Maggie Brainerd's heart sank within her. She knew that the story that
Jake Golcher had just told her was without an iota of truth. He had lied
so clumsily that he had not deceived her at all.
The very question which he had asked about her parent was proof that he
had not seen him, and therefore could know nothing of him.
The young lady was shocked, but she was helpless. Her duty was to do her
utmost for the safety of those who were now with her, and she was sure
that Golcher could give great help, if he chose to do so.
"Jake," said she, speaking with all the earnestness of her nature, "this
is a dreadful day for Wyoming; I can hardly realize what has taken
place; I do not believe that any one on this side of the river is safe."
"Of course he isn't--that is, none of the rebels is; _our_ folks are all
right."
"Can you save us?"
"I don't know what's to hinder--that is, if I take the notion, but I
don't feel like doing much for that spitfire of an aunt, that insulted
me the last time that I called at your house."
"You musn't mind her peculiarities; she is a good woman, and then, you
know, she is my friend."
"Well, _that_ makes a good deal of difference--that's a fact," remarked
Golcher, with such a grotesque attempt to look arch and loving, that the
watchful African, instead of firing upon him as he had meant to do,
smiled.
"I'm afeard he don't feel berry well; he'll feel a good deal worse if
Aunt Peggy or me gets hold of him."
"And then," added Golcher, glancing at Gravity, "_you_ heard the
impudence of that servant."
"Because he is a servant you ought to excuse him; I should feel very
sorry to have him suffer harm."
"I don't mind taking particular care of _you_ and your little sister
there, but I would prefer to leave Aunt Peggy, as you call her, and the
darkey to shift for themselves."
"Then I do not want you to do anything for Eva and me," said Maggie,
resolutely, feeling that she was throwing away invaluable time by
holding converse with this man; "God has been better to us than we
deserve, and we shall leave all with him."
She turned to move off, much to the relief of Aunt Peggy, who had hard
work to hide her impatience, when Golcher saw that he had gone too far.
Catching her arm, he said:
"Don't be so fast; where will you go, if you don't go with me?"
"Gravity is our guide."
"I haven't told you I wouldn't take care of you, have I?"
"But if you are unwilling to include _all_ of us, I do not want your
friendship."
"Then for the sake of _you_ I will save you _all_, though nobody beside
me would do so; but, Maggie, I'll expect a little better treatment from
you when I come to your house again."
At this point Golcher saw that the patience of the young lady was
exhausted. Her companions were ready to chide her for halting to speak
to him, though the words that passed took but a few minutes. He reached
out his hand to lay it on her arm, but she drew back.
"Maggie," said he, warningly; "when I came down the river bank, I left
six Seneca warriors among the trees back there; they are tired waiting
for me; their guns are loaded, and I have only to raise my hand over my
head to have 'em fire every one of 'em; if they do it, they will all be
_pointed this way_."
Maggie Brainerd was sure the Tory spoke the truth.
"You will not do that, Jake, I am sure."
"Not if you act right; follow me."
Maggie reached out her hand as an invitation for Eva to come to her;
but Aunt Peggy grasped one of the little palms in her own, for she had
overheard the invitation. When Maggie looked around, her aunt compressed
her thin lips and shook her head in a most decided fashion.
"_No, ma'am_; Eva stays here: if you want to go off with that scamp you
can do so, but the rest of us _don't_."
"But, aunt, what shall we do? There's no escape for us unless we put
ourselves in his care; Jake has promised to see that no harm befalls us
from the Indians."
"Ugh!" exclaimed the aunt, with a shudder of disgust: "I'd rather trust
myself with the worst Indians that are now in the valley than with
_him_."
"Them's my sentiments," broke in Gravity; "we don't want to fool away
any more time with _him_."
"Then you'll take the consequences," said the Tory, trembling with
anger. "I offered to protect you and you refused to have me; I'll still
take care of Maggie and Eva, but as for you others, you shall see--"