On his entrance he was welcomed by his wife, a young girl whom he had only married since his return from the expedition, and to whom, from what he had learned of the position of women among the whites, he allowed more freedom of speech and action than are usually permitted to Indian women. She had been one of the small group who had pitied the white girl.
‘The Raven is a great chief,’ she said proudly; ‘he has done well. The Mouse trembled, but she was glad to see her lord stand forth. The Stag will strike, though,’ she added anxiously. ‘He will look for the blood of the Raven.’
‘The Stag is a great beast,’ the Indian said sententiously; ‘but the Raven eat him at last.’
Then, sitting down upon a pile of skins, the chief filled his pipe, and made signs to his wife to bring fire. Then he smoked in silence for some time until the sun went down, and a thick darkness closed over the valley.
At length he got up, and said to his wife, ‘If they ask for the Raven, say that he has just gone out; nothing more. He will not return till daybreak; and remember,’ and he laid his hand upon her arm to impress the caution, ‘whatever noise the Mouse hears in the night, she is not to leave the hut till the Raven comes back to her.’
The girl bowed her head with an Indian woman’s unquestioning obedience; and then, drawing aside the skin which served as a door, and listening attentively to hear if any one were near, the Raven went out silently into the darkness.
