His eyes met mine in sombre inquiry, half
eager, half proudly doubtful.
I went to him at once, and took his hand in mine. No word was
spoken. Presently he withdrew his hand from my clasp, and,
putting his finger to his lips, whistled low to the Indian girl. She
drew aside the hanging mats, and we passed out, Diccon and I,
leaving him standing as we had found him, upright against the
post, in the red firelight.
Should we ever go through the woods, pass through that gathering
storm, reach Jamestown, warn them there of the death that was
rushing upon them? Should we ever leave that hated village?
Would the morning ever come? When we reached our hut, unseen,
and sat down just within the doorway to watch for the dawn, it
seemed as though the stars would never pale. Again and again the
leaping Indians between us and the fire fed the tall flame; if one
figure fell in the wild dancing, another took its place; the yelling
never ceased, nor the beating of the drums.
It was an alarum that was sounding, and there were only two to
hear; miles away beneath the mute stars English men and women
lay asleep, with the hour thundering at their gates, and there was
none to cry, "Awake!" When would the dawn come, when should
we be gone? I could have cried out in that agony of waiting, with
the leagues on leagues to be traveled, and the time so short! If we
never reached those sleepers - I saw the dark warriors gathering,
tribe on tribe, war party on war party, thick crowding shadows of
death, slipping though the silent forest .
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