Pine Coulee understood the incredulity in the girl's eyes, and rushed on, bitterly, in broken English:
"Yes. Robert Burroughs! Ask him!" pointing to Danvers with her lips, as Indians will. "Burroughs mine! You not have him! You take this man! You have everything—Pine Coulee have nothing but Bob and his baby! You sha'n't have him! No! No!" The squaw, crazed with jealousy, started towards Burroughs' house, but turned back with real dignity. "I hate you! Why you come to steal my man?"
Then she abruptly took her bitter way along the trail till—Burroughs blocked her. He gave her one look and rode forward.
"Your father sent me to look for you, Miss Thornhill," he began, as he drew rein. He resolved to carry the matter off boldly, if Eva referred to the Indian woman. "If you like, we will ride back together," he added, nodding to Danvers.
"No, no, no!" cried Eva, hysterically. "I'm afraid of—of that—squaw!" She pointed to Pine Coulee, who had followed Burroughs like a blighting shadow.
"Git out of here!" Burroughs emphasized his command to the squaw with a vicious kick. Not realizing how much the words would reveal, he added: "I tol' yeh ter stay in the house!"
"I'll care for Miss Thornhill, Burroughs," interrupted Danvers. "Let us pass, please! Take Pine Coulee back and leave decent white women to others."
"To you?" sneered the trader, with suddenly loosened rage at maid and man.
"Yes, to me!" proudly answered Philip, drawing closer to Eva's mount. The girl was scarlet with rage.
"Oh, it's that way, is it?" snarled Bob. "You told Miss Thornhill—that's plain to be seen!"