It did not take long by means of a shovel which Old Pegs brought out of the copse, to dig a shallow grave, in which they laid the two Indians, piling a heap of stones upon the bodies to guard them from the wolves. This done, they went back to the cabin, where they found Myrtle and Rafe Norris seated rather close together, while he was explaining a book which Dave had brought. If the young captain had a fault it was jealousy, and the blood started into his face as he noted the position of the pair. Deeply interested as she was in the explanation, in her eager desire for knowledge, Myrtle did not look up as they came in, and even her father looked a little vexed, for he did not like to see her becoming interested in Rafe Norris.
“Oh, Dave!” she cried, looking up at last. “You would be interested in the account which Mr. Norris is giving of the Aleutian Islands. He was there on a voyage not long ago.”
“I fear Mr. Farrell does not appreciate my poor endeavors to entertain you, Miss Myrtle,” said Rafe, who interpreted rightly the expression of David Farrell’s face. “But, if you have no objections, we will go on.”
“I reckon we’d better postpone the study, jest now,” said Old Pegs. “Dave hez a good ’eal to tell you about his visit to civilization, Myrtle.”
“By no means,” replied Dave, taking up his weapons. “While Miss Myrtle is so pleasantly engaged, I can not find it in my heart to interfere.”
With these words he hurried out of the cabin before Myrtle could stop him, and Old Pegs started up to follow. When he reached the door, Dave was half-way across the opening, moving on at the long, swinging pace into which a man insensibly falls, who is used to long marches over the prairie. The old hunter hurried after him, calling him by name.
“Let him go, the jealous boor,” said Rafe, quickly. “We can dispense with his company easily enough.”
“Mr. Norris,” said Myrtle, flushing, “you forget yourself when you call my friends hard names. I am very sorry for what has happened, for no one can be better, braver or more true hearted than the man you call a boor.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Norris in a tone of contrition. “The word slipped out before I had time to think, for of course it would be ungentlemanly in me to thus stigmatize a friend of yours. But, he is something of a dog in the manger, and seems to arrogate to himself the right to your society, to the complete exclusion of men as good as himself. Let us go back to our book.”
“I am tired of it now,” she replied, pushing it aside. “Let me alone, sir; how dare you touch my hand.”