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Updated: June 17, 2025
There was silence for some time while Wanaha cleared away the plates. Presently, as she was bending over the cook-stove, she spoke again. And she kept her face turned from her husband while she spoke. "You want Rosebud for my brother. Why?" "I?" Nevil laughed uneasily. Wanaha had a way of putting things very directly. "I don't care either way." "Yet you pow-wow with him?
He stands ever in the slaughter-yard, living only at the pleasure of the reigning chief. He is a brave man. The service is over. It is perforce brief. The grown men and women come out of the building. The spacious interior is cleared of all but the children and a few grown-up folk who remain to hold a sort of Sunday-school. There are Wanaha and Seth.
So, in the waning daylight, she cantered over the scented grass without a thought of the danger which Wanaha had hinted to her. She was defenceless, unarmed, yet utterly fearless. Her spirit was of the plains, fresh, bright, strong. Life to her was as the rosy light of dawn, full of promise and hope.
You see, I have always known them. But you seem to have taken exception only to Little Black Fox and Wanaha as far as I am concerned. You let me teach the Mission children, you even teach them yourself, yet, while admitting Wanaha's goodness, you get angry with me for seeing her. As for Little Black Fox, he is the chief.
"I don't see how he could have found them," he said at last, more to himself than to her. But she answered him with a quiet reassurance, yet not understanding why it was necessary. "She only think," she said. "But he must have given her some cause to think," he said testily. "I'm afraid you're not as cute as I thought." Wanaha turned away. His words had caused her pain, but he did not heed.
The older man watched him seat himself a little wearily. "Hurt some?" he said. "Jest a notion," Seth replied in his briefest manner. "Say, you got around jest in time." "Yup. Wanaha put me wise after I left here, so I came that aways. Say, this is jest the beginnin'." "You think " "Ther's more comin'. Guess the troops 'll check it some. But say, this feller's worse'n his father.
With one accord the little mob broke. The triumphant child fled away to the bluff pursued by the rest of her howling companions. The man and the squaw were left alone. "The white man tells a story of a wolf and a squaw," Wanaha said, returning to her own language. The children were still shrieking in the distance. Seth nodded assent. He had nothing to add to her statement.
Nevil Steyne's day's labor, of whatever it consisted, was over. Wanaha had just lit the oil lamp which served her in her small home. The man was stretched full length upon the bed, idly contemplating the dusky beauty who acknowledged his lordship, while she busied herself over her shining stove. His face wore a half smile, but his smile was in nowise connected with that which his eyes rested on.
The man's brows had drawn together over his shifty blue eyes, and a sinister look had replaced the look of triumph that had been there before. "She say she think." "Ah! She only thinks." Nevil's thumb was at his mouth again. "Yes." Wanaha finished. The change in the man's face had checked her desire to pursue the subject.
She argued, if Nevil Steyne were cutting wood below the bridge, as Wanaha had told her, then by entering the woods at the ford she could make her way through them until she came to him. Thus she would not show herself near his hut, or near where he might be known to be working.
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