"
The captive covered her face, and her frame shook like an aspen at the
remembrance of the dreadful scenes through which she had so recently
passed. It was several minutes before she recovered her self-command.
When she did, Hans Vanderbum proceeded with his questions.
"Dey burnt de place, I shpose?"
"Yes, yes; they destroyed everything."
"I shpose your folks will feel bad when dey finds dese Shawnees have
got you, won't dey?"
"Oh, yes, yes; do not speak of it."
At this point Hans Vanderbum began to get a sort of dim, vague idea
that his style of conversation was not exactly calculated to soothe the
feelings of the unfortunate prisoner; so he determined, if possible, to
make amends for it. Patting her on the head, he said, gently:
"Don't feel bad, my darling; I ish shorry for you, but I wants to ax
you anoder question."
"What is it?" queried the maid, with a wondering look.
"Will you answer it?" asked Hans Vanderbum, endeavoring to put on an
arch, quizzical expression.
"If it is in my power I instantly will. Pray, do not hesitate to ask
me anything you choose."
"Well, den, gits ready for it. I would shust like to know if dere
ishn't some feller dat is in love mit you, and you is in love mit, and
dat both ish in love mit each oder, eh?"
The crimson that suffused the cheeks and mounted to the very forehead
of the captive, answered the question of Hans Vanderbum more plainly
than words.
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