The Daughter of the Chieftain

But at the moment of entering them he stopped abruptly, wheeled

about, and walked slowly back toward the cabin.

Upon the return of Linna, Mrs. Ripley stepped to the front door to

look for her son. He was not in sight, but Omas had stopped again

hardly a rod distant. He stood a moment, looking fixedly at her,

and then beckoned with his free hand for her to approach.

Without hesitation she stepped off the broad flat stone and went

to him.

"What is it, Omas?" she asked in an undertone, pausing in front of

him, and gazing up into the grim, painted countenance.

The Delaware returned the look for a few seconds, as if studying

how to say what was in his mind. Then in a voice lower even than

hers, he said--"You--little girl--big boy--go way soon--

must not stay here."

"Why do you say that, Omas?"

"Iroquois like leaves on trees--white men, call Tories--soon

come down here--kill all white people--kill you--kill little

girl, big boy--if you stay here."

The pioneer's wife had heard the same rumors for days past. She knew

there was cause for fear, for nearly all the able bodied men in

Wyoming were absent with the patriot army, fighting for independence.

The inhabitants in the valley had begged Congress to send some soldiers

to protect them, and the relatives of the women and children had

asked again and again that they might go home to save their loved

ones from the Tories and Indians; but the prayer was refused. The

soldiers in the army were too few to be spared, and no one away

from Wyoming believed the danger as great as it was.

But the people themselves knew the peril, and did their best

to prepare for it. But who should know more about the Indians and

Tories than Omas, the great Delaware warrior?

When, therefore, he said these words to Mrs. Ripley, that woman's

heart beat faster. She heard the laughter and prattle of the children

in the house, and she thought of that bright boy, playing with his

young friends not far away.

"Where can we go?" she asked, in the same guarded voice.

"With Omas," was the prompt reply; "hide in wigwam of Omas. Nobody

hurt palefaced friend of Omas."

It was a trying situation. The brave woman, who had passed through

many dangers with her husband, knew what a visit from the Tories

and Indians meant; but she shrank from leaving Wyoming, and all

her friends and neighbors.

"When will they come?" she asked; "will it be in a few weeks or in

a few days?"