the part of wisdom to stray not far into the forest, and never unarmed. What say you, Obid?”
“I say naught, master. If you choose to bide here and be done to death, ’tis your own matter. But as for me, to-morrow morn I leave!”
“Then ’twere best you fortified yourself with sleep,” replied Nathan Lindall dryly, “for the journey is long.”
“Sleep, say you! Not a wink of sleep shall I have this night. If die I must ’twill be whilst I’m awake and command all my faculties.”
“Think you, Obid,” asked David slyly, “that being scalped be the more pleasant for missing no part of it?”
“Peace, David,” said his father. “’Tis not seemly to jest on so serious a matter. Be off to bed, lad.”
Once in the night David awoke and, listening to the hearty sounds that came from the farther end of the attic, smiled. “Faith,” he thought sleepily as he turned over, “if Obid be still awake he has not the sound of it!”
Perhaps sleep brought counsel to Obid, for in the morning there was no more talk
