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Show Page 143 The Indian shook his head. Pointing to where Walter's musket hung above the fireplace, he said, "Want gun. You take beaver, me take gun." It was my turn to shake my head. "I cannot trade you the gun," I told him. "It is not my gun to trade. This is all I have." I waggled the pin under his nose. At last he plucked it from me and held it to the light, turning it one way then another, watching the glint and flash of the metal. "Is good," he said, handing me the fur and heading toward the door. "Next time I trade with Walter. Then I get gun." It was then Cisly came bursting through the doorway, his face nigh scarlet, his breath gone. "It is time!" he gasped. "The baby is coming. Where is Margaret?" "She is off gathering herbs," I told him. "I do not expect her back for a long while yet." "Then you will have to go," Cisly said. "She needs a woman." "But it is coming early," I cried, "and I know nothing about birthing babies." "Even so, you can stay by her till Margaret comes. And you can pray Margaret comes before the babe!" "I'll not go alone." "I must look for Margaret," Cisly said. |