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He knew that Glen was somewhat unnerved, and he upbraided himself for telling her about his dream. Why are some people so foolish as to believe in such things? he asked himself. "Suppose we go over to Sconda's," Glen suggested. "I want to see Klota. She is doing some work for me." "I understand," Reynolds replied. "You wish to find out how that bearskin is getting along."
Many an unwary voyager had been caught in such a storm, and in bygone days the natives always used their stoutest charms in their efforts to propitiate the demon of the mountains. Sconda's hands firmly grasped the wheel, and his alert eyes studied every wave as he guided the boat on her plunging course.
With nerves strung to the highest tension, Glen guarded her prisoner, at the same time listening anxiously for the sound of Sconda's returning footsteps. Ever since leaving for the hills Reynolds had the strong feeling that the ruler of Glen West was studying him very closely.
Glen did not reply, but looked thoughtfully out over the water toward the shore. She was glad that Reynolds believed she wished to go to Sconda's merely to see about the skin. But in truth, there was something far more important, and it was this which now disturbed her mind. They found Klota at the back of the house busily engaged upon the skin, which was stretched over a log.
He sang snatches of songs as he rode along, and at times laughed aloud in boyish glee, much to Sconda's astonishment. Life was bright and rosy to him on this fine summer morning, and the future looked most promising. He could hardly believe that he was the same person who had entered the country but a few weeks before, and who had travelled over that same trail with Frontier Samson.
"But don't let him think you are watching, remember. You stay behind when the others have brought the bear home. But don't let the white man see you." Into Sconda's eyes flashed an expression of understanding. He knew now what the girl meant. What would he not do for her? the white girl he had known since she was but a child, and whose word to him was law, not of force but of affection.
Sconda's eyes brightened as Glen came down to the wharf and asked him to take her out upon the water. The Frontiersman, the name of the motor-boat, was the pride of Sconda's heart. When he had been appointed captain of the craft, his highest ambition was reached. This, together with the fact that he was the special guardian of the Big Chief's daughter, gave him a high standing in the camp.
At first she was tempted to ride forth toward Crooked Trail and await Sconda's return, but changing her mind, she launched her light canoe, and was soon skimming out over the water of the big lake. She generally took an Indian girl, or Sconda with her. But now she wished to be alone, that she might think as she drifted or paddled.
Most likely they intended to land somewhere up the creek, an' do some private spoonin'. We could have crept down, knocked out the guy, an' carried off the gal. But now bah! ye've spoiled the whole show!" Curly made no reply, but lay there watching the canoe until it had reached Sconda's landing.
"I have never been so happy in my life as I have been since I came to this place. I wonder what your father will do when he comes home." "I wish I knew," and Glen sighed. "Anyway, it's no use to worry about that now. Let us enjoy ourselves while we can." It was supper time when they at length reached Sconda's shore, where they pulled the canoe out of the water.
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