Wowkle hesitated, then rose, and finally started slowly towards him. Half-way over she stopped and reminded him in a most apathetic manner:
“P’haps me not stay marry to you for long.”
“Huh—seven monse?” queried Jackrabbit in the same tone.
“Six monse,” came laconically from the woman.
In nowise disconcerted by her answer, the Indian now asked:
“You come soon?”
Wowkle thought a moment; then suddenly edging up close to him she promised to come to him after the Girl had had her supper.
“Huh!” fairly roared the Indian, his coal-black eyes glowing as he looked at her.
It was at this juncture that the Girl, after hanging up her lantern on a peg on the outer door, broke in unexpectedly upon the strange pair of lovers.
Dumbfounded, the woman and the man stood gaping at her. Wowkle was the first to regain her composure, and bending over the table she turned up the light.