“Rayther sad fur the Crows, shore enough. Her lettin’ go the battle-ax would hev been sadder fur you, ef ye hadn’t dodged the weapon. Are you sartin it is the same gal?”
“I have not a doubt of it. I saw her plainly, and I could not be mistaken. Those flashing eyes, that rich olive complexion, that queenly carriage, could not be forgotten. There was no change in her, except that she seemed more beautiful than ever.”
“Yaas, I reckon. Handsome is as handsome does, ’cordin’ to my notion, and it don’t look over and above handsome to see a gal trottin’ out on the war-path and flingin’ bloody battle-axes about. ’Pears like she didn’t know ye.”
“I suppose she did not,” replied Wilder, as his countenance fell.
“A knock-down blow with that battle-ax of her’n wouldn’t be what ye might call a love-tap, and it warn’t no common way of lettin’ ye know that she hadn’t forgot ye. But ye oughtn’t to be down-hearted, boy. Remember how ye fooled Old Blaze down to St. Louey. Tell ye, thar’s a powerful differ atween a chap with long ha’r and beard, and his face brown and his leggin’s on, and the same chap when he is short-sheared and class-shaved, and has got the look of the settlements onto him. The gal was just from the fight, too, whar every white man was an inimy. Ye may count it sartin that she didn’t know ye.”
“I believe you are right. I must find her, old friend.”
“I allowed ye’d found her to-day. Leastways, ye found her battle-ax.”
“I must see her and speak to her. If it is necessary to go among the Arapahoes to find her, I must seek her there. Will you help me, or is it too much to ask?”
“Ye kin bet yer life that Old Blaze will stand by ye.”