"I think it must have been a false report. Here have we been waiting, gun in hand, for the last two months, and not a sign of a Redskin's tomahawk have we seen," said Rosalind cheerfully, as she and her parents rose from their evening meal.
"Thank God if it be so," returned her mother.
"We'll not slacken our vigilance, however," was McArthur's answer.
At that instant a rapping at the house door was heard, and McArthur rose.
"It must be Frank Robertson. He'll probably want a shake-down, wife."
"He can have it if he wants it," was Mrs. McArthur's cordial answer.
"Many thanks, but he won't trespass on your hospitality," said the new-comer, a tall, handsome young settler, entering as he spoke. "No, McArthur, I cannot stay. I have come but for five minutes on my way back to the village."
"You can at least sit down," said McArthur, pulling forward a chair. "What is the latest news?"
"Nothing, beyond the report that the Indians appear to have shifted themselves elsewhere."
"Well, that is news," said Rosalind, looking up with a smile.
"You say, 'appear to have shifted themselves,'" said McArthur. "I shall still keep on the defensive. I wouldn't trust a Redskin for a good deal."
"True enough," was the answer. "McArthur, whom could you send to the village for need at a critical time?"
"I doubt if I could spare a man. Every hand would be wanted, every rifle needed, for I know not in what numbers the Redskins might come."
"I could ride to the village," announced Rosalind calmly. "Golightly and I would cover the ground in no time."
"You, my darling!" Mrs. McArthur ejaculated in horror.
McArthur waved his daughter's words aside.
"You do not know, my child, what danger you would court."
"Of course, Miss McArthur is out of the question," said the young man, and smiled as Rosalind darted an indignant glance at him.
"At any rate, I am at your service if you need me," he continued. "I trust I may not be called out for such a purpose, but if I am, I and my rifle are at your disposal."
"Thanks, Robertson, you are a good fellow," returned McArthur heartily, grasping the young man's hand.
In a few minutes he rose to go. Rosalind accompanied him to the house door.
"Mr. Robertson," she said abruptly, as soon as they were out of hearing, "which would be the shortest cut to the village? By the woods or by the river?" He looked keenly at her.