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Updated: May 18, 2025
The pink of her cheeks deepened, but she quietly countered: "Why, Basdel, I like you now. If I didn't I never would bother to speak plainly to you." Three years' picture-painting was turning out to be dream-stuff. I tried to tell myself I was foolish to love one so much like Ericus Dale; but the lure was there and I could no more resist it than a bear can keep away from a honey-tree.
"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, snatching 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.
The dank woods the silence the awful stealth of night. No, no, Basdel. Let me die here." "Patsy, grip yourself! You can't stay among these beggars. They think you are insane. That's why they've spared you. But there's going to be a battle soon. If they win they'll bring many prisoners here. You must not be here 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.
Then I hunted for Indian medicine. I soon found it, the bark of a linn or bee-tree root. This I pounded and bruised with the butt of my rifle and threw it into the kettle to boil. Patricia remained very patient and quiet, her eyes following my every move. "You're as useful as a housewife, Basdel," she remarked. "More useful than most women could be."
It'll take more'n you, Basdel Morris, to keep my paws clear of the critters once I git a bead on one of 'em. Git out of my way so's I can git my rifle. I'll have the three of 'em yet." "If you make a move to follow them I'll shoot you," I promised. By this time men were crashing through the bushes.
The color faded from her face and her eyes were almost wistful as she met my gaze unflinchingly, and gently asked: "Basdel, is it fair for a man going back to the forest to carry hope with him? The man goes once and is gone three years. What if he goes a second time and is gone another three years? And then what if he comes back, rifle in hand, and that's all? What has he to offer her?
We must get clear of this village at once. We must get back to Virginia." She shivered and her eyes dilated as she stared at me and she muttered: "I dread the woods, the silence, the darkness. The wolves howling at night. Worst of all is the creeping horror of being chased. No! No! I can't stand any more, Basdel. The black horror comes over me when I let myself think of it.
Not only did the whites want the war, but the natives also were eager for it. But enough of whys and wherefores, as they make poor story-telling, and leave me, Basdel Morris, overlong in quitting the thicket about my tree.
And now they have taken you!" "All will be well yet," I faltered. "Yes, all will be well," she gently said. "All will be well, when we are dead and at peace." "Patsy! Patsy!" I begged. "Don't give up hope. Don't lose your courage! Why, there's a dozen chances for us to fool these devils." She patted my tied hands, and murmured: "You're a good boy, Basdel. You were patient when I abused you.
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