"Still, there might be, and I want you to come. Frankly, I've omitted to tell you of one disquieting report that has reached us. After the recent battle on the Rosebud, one of the warriors of Crazy Horse was captured by General Crook. The prisoner said that within a day's ride to the west of here, our—and your—aged friend——"
She stopped him, lifting her hands to her face. "Not him!" she whispered; "not him! Oh, he was so good to us, Captain!"
Oliver sighed. "I fear it's so—yet it's only a report."
Some time went by. Meanwhile, she walked about the room in silence. Her lips were trembling.
"You'll come?" he said.
"When you're sure"—she spoke with difficulty—"the Indians are going to make trouble, I will. But—but I think I'd rather stay. I made dad a promise once—I'd hate to break it—now."
"Your father didn't like us, I understand. I'm sorry. And of course you feel that you should keep your promise to him. Well, I can send a convoy with you to Bismarck."
"We haven't a cent. You see, I'm counting a heap on my garden."
"Oh, we would get something together for you."
She flinched. "No, I wouldn't like that. And dad'd hate it worse than if I broke the promise. Besides, I'm going to pay back B Troop."