"But what will he say when they ask him what has become of the pale squaw who was in his company?" she asked, gently leading him on.
"I don't know; shall have to tell some kind of a story. What do you think has become of her, Little Raven?" and the tone of his voice told her sensitive ear that he was very far from having lost his interest in her.
"The pale-face has hidden her, and will bring her back, when he wills, to his wigwam."
"What, when you are to be my wife?"
"Are the chiefs of the pale-faces so poor that they can not have but one wife? The red warrior has many."
"I hadn't thought of that, but the fact is I don't know where she is, though I have searched far and near, and intend to continue to do so."
"Then you do love her?"
"No; I hate her, and would soon hand her over to the tribe for torture. If you will find her, Raven, I will give you any thing you ask."
"If I should, I would drive a knife through her heart."
"What in the name of heaven would you do that for?" he asked, earnestly, and with far more of feeling than he intended to display.