"Thank you. I regret that I have an engagement with Mr. Rivers," said
John, with the prim manner he was fast losing.
"By George!" murmured Penhallow as he rose.
John looked up puzzled, and his uncle, much amused, went to get his boots
and riding-dress. "Wait till I get you on a horse, my Lord Chesterfield,"
he muttered. "He and Leila must have had a row. What about, I wonder." He
asked no questions.
With a renewal of contentment and well-pleased, John called for the
rector. They went away into the forest to the cabin.
"And so," said Rivers, "this is where the first Penhallow had his Indian
fight. I must ask the Squire."
"I know about it," said John. "Leila told me, and"--he paused, "I saw
it."
"Oh! did you? Let's hear." They lay down, and the rector lazily smoked.
"Well, go ahead, Jack, I like stories." He had early rechristened him
Jack, and the boy liked it.
"Well, sir, they saw them coming near to dusk and ran. You see, it was a
clearing then; the trees have grown here since. That was at dusk. They
barred the door and cut loop-holes between the logs. Next morning the
Indians came on. She fired first, and she cried out, 'Oh! James, I've
killed a man.'"
"She said that?" asked Rivers.
"Yes, and she wouldn't shoot again until her man was wounded, then she
was like a raging lioness.
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