"There's been nothing dangerous so far."
"No, it's later when we get into the country of the Sioux and the Black-feet. They often attack small parties. It's a great risk that people oughtn't to run. They told us that in Independence, too."
He made no answer and she eyed him with stealthy curiosity. He was looking on the ground, his depression apparent. At this evidence of her ability to bring joy or sorrow to her slave she relented.
"You'll join it, too, won't you?" she said gently.
"I don't know. The big trains move so slowly."
"Oh, you must. It would be dreadfully dreary to separate our parties after we'd traveled so long together."
"Maybe I will. I haven't thought about it."
"But you must think about it. There's no knowing now when we may come upon them—almost any day. You don't want to go on and leave us behind, do you?"
He again made no answer and she stole another quick look at him. This mastery of a fellow creature was by far the most engrossing pastime life had offered her. There was something about him, a suggestion of depths hidden and shut away from her that filled her with the venturesome curiosity of Fatima opening the cupboards in Bluebeard's castle.
"We'd feel so lonely if you went on and left us behind with a lot of strange people," she said, with increasing softness. "We'd miss you so."