"If you love your father keep him on this side of the Alleghanies!"

"You will make me angry, Basdel. I don't want to be displeased with you.

My father has known the Indians for years. He has warm friends in every tribe. He is as safe among them as he is here in Salem. And if Howard's Creek is in danger he can request the Indians to keep away from it."

"Good G.o.d! Are you as blind as all that?" I groaned.

"Forest-running, Basdel, has made you violent and rough in your talk," she icily rebuked. "You hate the Indians simply because you do not understand them. Now I'm positive that the best thing for you to do is to keep away from the frontier and see if you can't start right on this side of the mountains."

It would be folly to argue with her longer. I fished a pair of moccasins, absurdly small, from the breast of my hunting-shirt and placed them on the table. I had bought them from a squaw in White Eyes' village, and they were lavishly embroidered with gay beads. The squaw had laughed when I told the size I wanted.

"If you will forget these came from the forest and will let me leave them, I shall be pleased," I said. "If you don't care for them, just chuck them aside. I had to guess at the size."

"Oh, they are beautiful," she softly exclaimed, s.n.a.t.c.hing them from the table. "Basdel, why not stay on this side of the mountains? You're a very clever young man if you would only give yourself a chance. Very soon you could go to the House of Burgesses. If you don't care to go into trade you could speculate in land. Father is against it, but if it will be done, you might as well do it as to leave the cream for others."

"Even if I wished to stay, I could not," I replied. "I have much to do over there. Unfinished work. I have promised Colonel Lewis to carry despatches when not scouting. If they can send some one to Fort Pitt in my place I shall serve as scout in the Clinch River Valley. The people down there are badly upset."

"Well, giving yourself for others may be very Christian-like. One must decide for one's self," she said.

"The people over there help one another. They stand together. If I can help them, I shall be helping myself."

"I wish my father could go there and make them see how silly they are,"

she impatiently declared. "If they would only be friendly with the Indians! It is so simple----"

"I know a fellow about your age," I broke in. "The Indians killed his people on Keeney's k.n.o.b ten years ago and stole his little sister. He doesn't know whether she is dead or a captive. His folks were friendly.

They were butchered after making a feast for Cornstalk and his warriors.

There are many such cases. It would do no good for your father to tell young Cousin and others, who happened to survive, that they are silly."

"Do you mean they would resent it?" she demanded, her chin going up in a very regal manner.

"He could scarcely change their opinions," I mumbled.

We were interrupted by a colored woman bustling in with Colonel Lewis'

servant in tow. The man bowed profoundly before Patsy and then informed me:

"Please, Ma.s.sa Morris, de c'unel 'mires fo' to see yo' at de house right erway. I 'spects it's business fo' de gun'ner. De c'unel mos' 'tic'lar dat say he wants to see yo' to once. Yas, sah. Please, sah."

I dismissed him with a word of my immediate attendance on the colonel.

Then I gave my hand to Patsy and said:

"This ends it then. Patsy, my thoughts of you have helped me out of many tight places."

"If you'd only be sensible, Basdel, and stay back here where you belong.

Just say the word and father will place you in his office. I'm sure of it."

"So am I sure of it, if you asked it. No, Patsy, it can't be that way. I thank you. I may be an awful failure, but I can always fool myself with hoping for better things. If I was pushed into trade, that would end me."

"Of course you know your limitations better than I do," she coldly said.

"Thanks for the pretty moccasins. I may have a chance to wear them soon."

"Do not wear them over the mountains," I begged. "You were never meant for the frontier. Good-by."

I had mounted my horse and was galloping back to Richfield almost before I had realized how definitely I had separated from her. There was so much I had intended to say. My thoughts grew very bitter as I repeatedly lived over our short and unsatisfactory meeting. I recalled patches of the bright dreams filling my poor noodle when I was riding to meet her, and I smiled in derision at myself.

I had carried her in my heart for three years, and because daily I had paid my devotion to her I had been imbecile enough to imagine she was thinking of me in some such persistent way. Patsy Dale was admired by many men. Her days had been filled with compliments and flattery.

My face burned as though a whip had been laid across it when I recalled her frank skepticism of my ability to support a wife. I had a rifle.

Several times she had thrust that ironical reminder at me, which meant I had nothing else. I came to her carrying my rifle. It was unfair to tie a girl with a promise when the wooer had only his rifle.

The d.a.m.nable repet.i.tion kept crawling through my mind. She wanted to impress the fact of my poverty upon me. I worked up quite a fine bit of anger against Patsy. I even told myself that had I come back with profits derived from peddling rum to the Indians, I might have found her more susceptible to my approach. Altogether I made rather a wicked game of viewing the poor girl in an unsavory light.

With a final effort I declared half-aloud that she was not worth a serious man's devotion. And it got me nowhere. For after all, the remembrance of her as she stood there, with her slim white neck and the ma.s.s of blue-black hair towering above the upturned face, told me she must ever fill my thoughts.

I reached Richfield early in the evening. Governor Dunmore had retired against an early start for Williamsburg. It was Colonel Lewis' wish that I ride without delay to Charles Lewis' place at Staunton, something better than eighty miles, and confer with him over the situation on the frontier.

"My brother has recently received intelligences from Fort Pitt which state the Indians are anxious for peace," explained the colonel.

"A parcel of lies," I promptly denounced.

"So say I. But the written statements are very plausible. They have made an impression on Charles. It is very important that he know the truth. It will be much better for you to talk with him than for me to try to send him your statements in writing. Haste is necessary. Leave your horse and take one of mine."

"Have your man bring out the horse. I will start now."

"A prompt response," he said. "And most pleasing. But to-morrow early will do. Spend the night here."

"To-night. Now," I insisted. "I need action."

He gave me a sharp glance, then called his man and gave the order. While my saddle was being shifted he informed me:

"Ericus Dale and John Ward paid us a call. Dale and His Excellency had a rare bout of words. The fellow Ward didn't say much, but he agreed to everything Dale said."

"I know about the way Dale talked," I gloomily said. "I talked with him before he came here. He thinks that Virginia is made up of fools, that only Pennsylvania knows how to handle the Indians."

I swung into the saddle and the colonel kindly said:

"I hope this business of mine isn't taking you away from something more pleasant."

"I thank you, Colonel, but I am quite free. All I ask is action and an early return to the frontier."

I knew the colonel knew the truth. He knew I had paid my respects to the girl and had been dismissed. He stretched out a hand in silence and gave me a hearty handshake; and I shook the reins and thundered up the road to Staunton.

CHAPTER VI

THE PACK-HORSE-MAN'S MEDICINE