“The terms, the terms?” cried Roland, eagerly:  “name them; I will not dispute them.”

But the renegade was in no such hurry.

“You see,” said he, “I’m a d——­d rascal, as I said; and in this matter, I am just as much a rascal as before, for I’m playing foul with Braxley, having bargained to work out the whole thing in his sarvice.  Howsomever, there is a kind of fair play in cheating him, seeing it was him that made a rascal of me.  And moresomever, I have my doubts of him, and there’s no way I can hold him up to a bargain.  And, lastly, captain, I don’t see how he can be of any sarvice to my gal!  He can’t marry her if he would; and if he could, he shouldn’t have her; and as for leaving her to his tender mercies, I would jist as soon think of hunting her up quarters in a bear’s den.  And as for keeping her among these d——­d brutes, the Injuns—­for brutes they are captain, there’s no denying it—­”

“Why need you speak of it more?  I will find her a home and protection,—­a home and protection for both of you.”

“As for me, captain, thanking’ you for the favour, you won’t do me no sich thing, seeing as how I don’t look for it.  There’s two or three small matters agin me in the Settlements, which it is no notion of mine to bring up for reckoning.  The gal’s the crittur to be protected; and I’ll take my pay out chiefly in the good you do to her; and for the small matters, not meaning no offence, I can trust best to her; for she’s my daughter, and she won’t cheat me.  Now, captain, a better gal than Telie—­her true name’s Matilda, but she never heard anything of it but Telie—­a better gal was never seen in the woods, for all she’s young and timorsome; and it’s jist my notion and my desire, that, whatever may become of me, nothing but good shall become of her.  And now, captain, here’s my tarms; I’ll cut you loose from Injun tugs and Injun fires, carry you safe to the Settlements, and give you this here precious sheepskin,—­which is jist as much as saying I’ll make you the richest man, in farms, flocks, and niggurs, in all Virginny; and you shall marry the gal, and make a lady of her!”

“Marry her!” cried Roland, in amazement and consternation,—­“marry her!”

“Ay, captain! that’s the word,” said Atkinson:  “I have an idea you’ll make her a good husband, for you’re an honest feller, and a brave one—­I’ll say that for you; and she’ll make you a good wife, or I’ll give you my scalp on it.  I reckon the crittur has a liking for you already; for I never did see any body so beg, and plead, and take on for mortal feller.  Marry her’s the tarms; and, I reckon, you’ll allow, they’re easy ones?”

“My good friend, you are surely jesting!” said the Virginian.  “I will do for her whatever you can wish, or demand.  The best farm in the whole estate shall be hers, and the protection of my kinswoman will be cheerfully and gratefully granted.”