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Updated: June 24, 2025
With this blade I would have killed you for all men die would have followed and killed you in the land of your people. But now I know that your heart is good. I have broken the knife. "You will keep the hilt, and when you are in trouble, in need, in want of a friend, you will send me this hilt, and I, Wa-ha-ta-na-ta, the daughter of Kas-ka-tan, the chief, will come to you."
"There are other things, too little acts of yours, that we will figure in as we go. The affair on Broken Knee, when you attacked this young girl; the shooting of Blood River Jack, from ambush; the second attack on the girl at the foot of the rapid and the brutal starving of Wa-ha-ta-na-ta. "Oh, yes; and the little matter of the bird's-eye.
"What is that to you, oh, Wa-ha-ta-na-ta, good or bad, if he kills Moncrossen?" The old woman leaped to her feet and pointed a sharp skinny finger toward the tepee, her eyes flashed, and the cracked voice rang thin with anger. "The girl!" she cried. "Jeanne, thy sister!" Her son stepped close to her side and spoke low with the quiet voice of assurance: "No harm will come to the girl.
"Wa-ha-ta-na-ta, lurking there in the deep shadow, in that moment knew that the man's heart was good. And she stepped into the firelight, and looked long into his eyes and she broke the knife and between them there passed the promise." Jacques puffed slowly upon his cigar, arose to his feet, and stood looking down upon the two who had listened to his words.
The days of his convalescence in the camp of the Lacombies were days fraught with mingled emotions in the heart of Bill Carmody. Old Wa-ha-ta-na-ta treated him with cold deference, anticipating his needs with a sagacity that was almost uncanny. She appeared hardly to be aware of his presence, yet many times the man felt, without seeing, the deep, burning gaze of the undimmed, black eyes.
"Wa-ha-ta-na-ta. She is my mother. She is an Indian, and very old." "Are you an Indian?" asked the man in such evident surprise that the girl laughed. "My father was white. I am a breed," she answered; then with a quick lifting of the chin, hastened to add: "But not like the breeds of the rivers!
"She's a queer kid," he said softly, as he recovered his crutch; "and a mighty good kid, too." That night the four sat late about the campfire. Old Wa-ha-ta-na-ta, silent and forbidding, as usual, but with a sharp ear for all that was said, listened as they laid their plans.
Stealthily and unknown she crept upon their trail, and always her sharp eyes were upon them, and in the fold of her blanket was concealed a long, keen blade, and behind the unfailing gaze of the black eyes was the mind to kill. "Thus passed the days of the summer, and the hand of Wa-ha-ta-na-ta was stayed, but her vigilance remained unrelenting.
For he is her friend, his word has passed, his heart is strong and good, and he knows not fear. "Upon Moncrossen will fall the day of the Great Reckoning. And, in that day, justice will be done, for he will stand face to face with M's'u' Bill The-Man-Who-Cannot-Die the man whom Wa-ha-ta-na-ta has named 'The One Good White Man'!" "And, to think," whispered Mrs.
Someone held a bottle to her lips, and she drank greedily. Jeanne dropped to her knees by the old woman's side. "He has come," she whispered. "M's'u' Bill, The-Man-Who-Cannot-Die, has come to you." Wa-ha-ta-na-ta nodded her understanding, and her beady black eyes flashed. "She must have water!" cried the girl; "and food!"
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