As the reader may have surmised, he was no other than Daffodil or Mahogany, who had left Teddy on purpose to visit the cabin, while both the servant and his master were absent.  In spite of the precaution used, he had taken more liquor than he intended; and, as a consequence, was just in that reckless state of mind, when he would have hesitated at no deed, however heinous.  From a jovial, good-natured Indian, in the company of the Hibernian, he was transformed into a sullen, vindictive savage in the presence of the gentle wife of Harvey Richter.  He supported himself against the door and seemed undecided whether to enter or not.  The alarm of Cora Richter was so excessive that she endeavored to conceal it.

“What do you wish?” she asked.

“Where Misser Richter?”

“Gone to the village,” she replied, bravely resolving that no lie should cross her lips if her life depended upon it.

“When come back?”

“In an hour or so perhaps.”

“Where Ted?”

“He has gone hunting.”

“Big lie—­he drunk—­don’t know nothing—­lay sleep on ground.”

“How do you know?  Did you see him?”

“Me gib him fire-water—­much like it—­drink good deal—­tumble over like tree hain’t got root.”

“Did you ever give it him before?” asked the young wife, her curiosity supplanting her alarm for the moment.

“Gib him offin—­gib him every day—­much like it—­drink much.”

Again the wife’s instinctive fear came back to her, and she endeavored to conceal it by a calm, unimpassioned exterior.

“Won’t you come in and rest yourself until Mr. Richter returns?”

“Don’t want to see him,” replied the savage, sullenly.

“Who do you wish to see then?”

“You—­t’ink much of you.”

The wife felt as if she would sink to the floor.  There was something in the tones of his voice that had alarmed her from the first.  She was almost certain this savage intended rudeness, now that he knew the missionary himself was gone.  She glanced up at the rifle which was hung above the fireplace.  It was charged, and she had learned how to fire it since her marriage.  Several times she was on the point of springing up and seizing it and placing herself upon the defensive.  Her heart throbbed wildly at the thought, but she finally concluded to resort to such an act only at the last moment.  She might still conciliate the Indian by kindness, and after all, perhaps he meditated no harm or rudeness.

“Come and sit down then, and talk with me awhile,” said she, as pleasantly as it was possible.

The savage stumbled forward a few feet, and dropped into a seat, where he glared fully a minute straight into the face of the woman.  This was the most trying ordeal of all, especially when she raised her own blue eyes, and addressed him.  It seemed impossible to combat the fierce light of those orbs, although she bore their scrutiny like a heroine.  He had seated himself near the door, but he was close enough for her to detect the fumes of the liquor he had drank, and she knew a savage was never so dangerous as when in a half-intoxicated condition.