“Did she ride Chestnut?”
“Course. What a lot of questions you ask!”
The Sun Maid looked into the boy’s face. It was too troubled for her comfort, and she exclaimed:
“Gaspar Keith! There’s more to be told than you’ve told me. What is it you are keeping back?”
“I—I wonder if you can understand, if I do tell you?”
“I think I can understand a good many things. One is: you are making me feel very unhappy.”
“Well, then, I’m going to take Wahneenah to the Fort, and give her up myself!”
They had remounted their horses, and were pacing leisurely along toward the rendezvous, keeping a sharp lookout for the Indian woman; but at this startling statement the Sun Maid reined up short, and demanded:
“What—do—you—mean?”