.
No. Don't wave your hands at me. I must say it. I even felt a little bit
of contempt for those brave women who went barefooted. God forgive me! I
was a cat, Basdel. A vicious cat!"

"Good heavens, Patsy! Say it all and have done with it. Call yourself a
pirate."

She would not respond to my banter, but fell to staring into the handful
of coals. Then the tears began streaming down her face, and at last she
sobbed:

"Poor girl! Poor girl! She was a wonderful friend to me. She never had any
chance, and you can never know how hard she tried to keep my spirits up;
how ready she was to stand between me and harm--me, who has had every
chance! And to end like that! And yet it was far worse to live like that.
It's best as it is, but God must be very good to her to make up for what
she lost. Tell me, Basdel, did she suffer much when she died?"

She could be talking only of Cousin's sister. I declared:

"She suffered none. It's best for her as it is."

She fell asleep with her back against a black walnut, and I spread my
hunting-shirt over her, for the air was shrewdly cool. In the dying coals
I saw pictures, wherein Kirst, Dale, and Lost Sister paraded in turn; the
fate of each the result of race-hatred, and a race-avidity to possess the
land. And a great fear came over me that the girl leaning against the
walnut, the mass of blue-black hair seeming to bow down the proud head,
was destined to be added to the purchase-price the frontier was ever
paying.

It was her talk and tears that induced this mood, for I knew the Shawnees
would have overtaken us by this time had they found our trail on the
Kentucky shore. Common sense told me that for the remainder of our journey
we would, at worst, be compelled to avoid small scouting-parties that had
no intimation of our presence on the Big Sandy.

But so many gruesome pranks had been played by Fate that I was growing
superstitious. And I feared lest the girl should be snatched from me at
the last moment, just as safety was almost within sight. I slept poorly
that night and what little rest I did obtain was along toward morning.

The girl awoke me; and I felt my face burning as I beheld her standing
there, staring down accusingly, the hunting-shirt spread across my chest.
I sprang to my feet and slipped into the shirt, which was made like a
coat, and waited for her to speak.

"So you've been sleeping cold," she said.

"Nay. Very warm," I replied, becoming busy with my moccasi