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He heard the clink of a chain. A moment later she returned to him. "There is a light in Hauck's room," she said. "His council room, he calls it where he makes bargains. I hope they are both there, Sakewawin both Hauck and Brokaw." She seized his hand, and held it tightly as she led him deeper into darkness. "I wonder why so many of the Indians are in? I did not know they were coming.
Her voice broke in a gasp that was like a sob. He struggled to rise; stood swaying before her, his legs unsteady as stilts under him. "My gun, Marge my pistol!" he demanded, trying to reach out his arms. "If I had them now...." "They must have taken them," she interrupted. "But I have Nisikoos' rifle, Sakewawin! Oh I must hurry! They won't come to my room, and Marcee is perhaps dead.
A pretty name for himself, he had told the girl and here it was raising the very devil with this drink-bloated colossus. He guessed quickly. It was decidedly a matter of guessing quickly and of making prompt and satisfactory explanation or, a throttling where he stood. His mind worked like a race-horse. "Sakewawin" meant something that had enraged Brokaw. A jealous rage.
Behind them he could hear the heavy, padded footfall of the big grizzly, and he knew that Baree was very near. After a little the Girl said, still in a whisper: "Does your head hurt you now, Sakewawin?" "A bit." The trail was widening. It was quite smooth for a space, but black. She pressed his fingers. "I believe all you have told me," she said, as if making a confession.
His heart rose chokingly in his throat. Her face was close to his, and she whispered: "Last night I kissed you, Sakewawin. I thought you were dying. Before you, I have kissed Nisikoos. Never any one else." Why did she say that, with that wonderful glow in her eyes? Couldn't be that she saw death climbing up the mountain? Was it because she wanted him to know before that? A child!
"But they will not follow us, Sakewawin. If they should, we shall be over the mountain." She braided her hair as he adjusted his pack. His heart was like a boy's. He laughed at her in joyous disapproval. "I like to see it unbound," he said. "It is beautiful. Glorious." It seemed to him that all the blood in her body leaped into her face at his words.
"There is but one way, Sakewawin to follow a narrow trail Tara and I have made, close to the foot of the range, until we come to the rock mountain. Shall we risk the bundle on Tara's back?" "It is light. I will carry it." "Then give me your hand, Sakewawin."
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