"Can't say, Rosie."
The man's reply was spoken slowly.
"Poor auntie!" Rosebud went on. "I can't help thinking of her. I wish I'd never said anything about 'scalping' to her. But she's very good and brave. She hasn't complained, and she's worked as hard as anybody. Do you know, I believe, now she's got over the first shock of it, she rather enjoys it. What do you think she said to me half an hour ago? She said, with such a smile, 'When I get home I shall have something to tell them. I'm keeping a diary.' Like a fool I said, 'You aren't home yet, auntie.' I said it without thinking. What do you suppose she replied?"
"Can't guess."
"Oh, I'll get home all right. Mr. Seth 'll see to that."
But Seth was impervious to the compliment. The girl smilingly watched his sombre face out of the corners of her eyes. There was no responsive smile.
"It's jest them things make it hard," he said, with something very like a sigh.
Rosebud's face had become serious. Her thoughts were hard at work.
"Is it as bad as that?" she asked presently.
"'Tain't no use lookin' at it easy. We're facin' the music--hard--this time. But we ain't done yet. Not by a sight. It's kind o' lucky we've laid in a big store of ammunition an' things."
It was dark by now, except for the glow of Indian fires, which gave a weird light on all sides.
Rosebud drew closer to the man's side. Her action passed unnoticed. His eyes were intent upon the dark horizon. He was watching, watching, with every faculty alert. He was listening, his ears ready to catch the faintest sound.
"It would be all right if only they could have sent word to the headquarters of the troops, I s'pose," the girl said thoughtfully. "Just fancy the Indians cutting the telegraph wires and destroying the railway."
"Yup. Guess they've had all winter to get things settled," Seth responded indifferently, while he turned a keen ear to windward.
"What are you listening for?" asked Rosebud, quickly.
"General's out scoutin'."
"Good old General!"
"Yes, he'll locate the Injuns when they git around."
But just then Rosebud was thinking of other things.
"Why can't you find some one who will try to get through to the troops? I mean the headquarters?"
Seth shook his head.
"Can't spare a single man," he said conclusively. "I 'lows no white folk 'ud get through anyways. An' we ain't got an Injun, an' if we had I wouldn't trust him no more'n I'd trust a 'rattler.' No, Rosie, gal, we've got to fight this out on our own. An' make no sort o' mistake we're goin' to fight good an' hard. I've figgered to hold this place fer two weeks an' more. That's how I've figgered."
It was the final repetition which filled Rosebud with misgivings. She realized the man's doubt. Suddenly she slipped a hand through his arm, and it gently closed over one of his. Her soft eyes were raised to his face as she put another question in a low tone.
"And if we go under, Seth?"
The man moved uneasily, but the little hand retained its hold of his.
"What then?"
Seth cleared his throat, but remained silent.
"What then?" the girl persisted.
"Don't ask me."
"I've thought once or twice of my poor father and mother," Rosebud said presently. "I was wondering what happened to them at--at the end."
Seth eyed the girl for a second. His face was troubled.
"I've a notion he was killed by the Injuns," he said.
"And mother?"
"Can't jest say. I don't fancy, though, he let the brutes worrit her any."
There was another pause. With an involuntary movement Rosebud's hand tightened trustfully upon his.
"I think father was right--to do that," she said simply.
The man nodded.
The next moment he was kneeling, his body bending forward, and his eyes straining in the direction of the horizon.
"What is it?" the girl asked.
"Ther's something movin'."
But Rosebud could hear nothing. Still she was content to accept his assurance.
"It's wheels," he said after a few moments.
"Is it Joe Smith's outfit?"
"Yup."
They both listened. The girl could now hear the faintest possible rattle of wheels. Suddenly she turned upon him. Her breath was coming quickly. She was smiling, and her eyes were soft under cover of the dim starlight.
"Seth, I want you to let me do something. In the old days you used to be my dear old 'daddy.' You used to scold me when I did wrong. You used to get angry with me, and I used to get more angry with you. Since I've grown up, of course, things have changed, haven't they?"
"Yes." The man looked into her face wonderingly.
"Well, daddy dear," the girl laughed nervously. "Maybe when the trouble begins I shan't see much of you. You'll be busy, and so will I. It's peace now, and I just want you to fall back into the old way. I want you for my 'daddy'--my dear, dear old 'daddy'--just for these few minutes. I want to be the silly scatterbrain I used to be."
"I ain't a heap at guessin', Rosie," Seth said doubtfully, but smiling tenderly at the upturned face.
"No, you never were." Rosebud gave a queer little laugh. "Well, I just want you to let me ride out and meet dear old Mrs. Smith. You know what a nervous old dear she is. I just thought if I rode out it might brighten her up. You see, she'd think the danger less, if a woman came to meet her."
"Wal, I won't say you no, gal," Seth replied gravely. "Guess it ain't right. But ther' ain't a heap of danger. Y' see in them old days I most gener'ly let you do as you notioned," he finished up with a shadowy smile.
"Dear old daddy!" Rosebud squeezed his arm with both her hands.
"Ther' be off, an' git your plug saddled, or mebbe I'll change my mind." The man could stand the temptation no longer. He gently released himself, and the girl moved as though to descend. But she altered her mind. Fortunately neither could see the other's face distinctly.
"Seth," she said, with forced brightness, "in the old days when I asked your permission for anything and you gave it to me you--you didn't let me go like that. It was customary for me to show my gratitude--like--like this."
She suddenly leant forward and imprinted a swift kiss on the man's thin cheek. And before he could reply, or even move, she had clambered down from the wall and made off. Nor was it until he heard her horse galloping out of the stockade, which occurred suspiciously soon after her leaving him, that he became aware that his cheek was wet with tears that had not been of his shedding.
CHAPTER XXVIII
A LAST ADVENTURE
It was not without a guilty feeling that Rosebud rode out of the stockade. She knew that she was deceiving Seth. She knew that she had lied to him deliberately. Worse, she had played upon his feelings with intent to deceive him. But her motive was good, and she tried to draw consolation from the knowledge.
Her argument was worthy of her. It was impulsive, and would not stand the test of logical inspection. She had thought long before putting her plan into execution; at least, long for her. She told herself that no deceit was unpardonable which had an honest, sound motive. In fact it was not deceit at all, only subterfuge.
Her argument was something after this fashion. She had been the chief source of trouble. Therefore she