THE TEXAN HUNTRESS. 327 
“Yes; he has not moved yet!” 
“We can’t leave this poor woman here alone !””—exclaimed 
my friend, with returning self-possession—“ We must remove 
them to my house and have them cared for !”” 
“No, friend—that cannot be!’’ said the woman—“ We live 
here or we die here! If you wish to do any thing, send your 
slaves here with provisions and some simple comforts. Leave 
that young man with me, and we will nurse him ourselves !” 
My friend was about to answer vehemently with his usual 
rough impatience of contradiction, but I appealed to him in a 
beseeching look for acquiescence—for the present at least. 
I found some difficulty, in the hurried and whispered conver- 
sation which ensued while she turned back to affectionate 
offices—in convincing him that it was best to let this strange 
and unmanageable woman have her own way—that we must 
humor her, or we could do nothing for her. 
He finally consented, with evident reluctance, to remain 
with me, and send Tom back to the plantation for supplies. 
It was about twenty miles distant, and we might expect to 
hear something of our scout by mid-day to-morrow. When 
it was explained to Tom what was expected of him, he accepted 
the mission with astonishing alacrity, and expressed with 
eagerness, in his own quaint fashion, his readiness to do 
every thing that speed and energy could accomplish, for he 
said, with a shamed and sneaking glance at me— 
“She aint no witch—Jim are jes the nigger fool I sed he 
war! She be a good woman, massa!—Tom will gib he’s 
scalp fur hur any time!” and springing upon his horse he 
galloped away, rifle in hand, and alone across these dangerous 
wilds. 
“Tom is all right now!” I said, with an attempt at a smile 
aswwe turned into the house. 
“Yes; he’s brave as a bull-dog, when he knows what he’s 
doing,” answered my friend, with a contemplative look, as we 
turned towards the round house—“ But, by heaven !—I’d like 
