What
are you laughing at, Annie?--I will go and see what sort of a guard we
have.
_Annie_. If you knew as much of Helen's Indians as I do, you would
hardly be in such a hurry, George, I mean about this one that was here
just now, for there are Indians in yonder forest I suppose; but since we
were so high, I never walked in the woods with her once, but that we
encountered one, or heard his steps among the bushes at least; and if it
chanced to be as late as this, there would be half a dozen of them way
laying us in the road,--but sometimes they turned out squirrels, and
sometimes logs of wood, and sometimes mere air, air of about this color.
We want a little light, that is all. There is no weapon like that for
these fancy-people. I can slay a dozen of them with a candle's beams.
(_George goes out_.)
_Helen_. Do not laugh at me to-night, Annie.
_Annie_. But what should the Indians want of you, pry'thee; tell me
that, Helen?
_Helen_. God knows. Wait till the sun sets to-morrow, and I will laugh
with you if you are merry then.
_Annie_. Why to-morrow?--because it is our last day
here? Tuesday--Wednesday--yes; the next day we
shall be on the road to Albany.
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