"And will the white traders go if the Chilcats demand it?" Owindia eagerly asked.
"No. Our leader would never consent to that, I am sure. Remember, we can put up a great fight behind those walls if all the men will only stand firm. But if we do go, Owindia must go too. If not, Natsatt will stay."
"The white men must go," Owindia replied, and then she told about the Chilcat messenger's visit to her father's lodge the previous night. She mentioned only two of the demands which had been made, and was careful to say nothing about herself. "They may come to-night," she said in conclusion, "and if the white traders do not go the Ayana people will be destroyed. They cannot fight long against the Chilcats. Oh, let them go while there is time!"
"Don't be afraid, little one," and Natsatt placed his arm tenderly around the maiden as he spoke. He noted that she was trembling, and attributed her fear to the presence of the enemy. "But come, I must go back and tell Dan what you have told me. It will be necessary for him to know what demands the Chilcats have made. And you must come with me, darling, into the Post. It will not do for you to stay outside, for you will be in great danger. All last night I worried about you. You will be safe within the walls. Ranger Dan and Natsatt will see to that."
But when the young man rose the maiden clung to his arm.
"Don't go yet," she pleaded. "Stay a little longer. Owindia cannot go into the Post now. She must wait awhile. Will not Natsatt make some music? Owindia's heart is full of fear, and the sweet sounds will help her to be strong."
Natsatt needed no second bidding, so drawing forth the mouth-organ he at once began to play. Forgotten for a time were the Chilcats, and as he played Owindia felt her courage rise. The chord of high resolve within her breast was again stirred. The old feeling of fear was banished, and she was willing to do, and to die if necessary for those she loved. Little did Natsatt realise what thoughts were passing through the mind of the young woman at his side. He believed that she had told him all, and that no veil separated their hearts of love. He was rapturously happy himself in the presence of Owindia. The charm of her face and manner appealed to him more than ever. And even when they rose to go Owindia delayed, threw her arms about his neck, and looked into his eyes with such beseeching tenderness that the young man was completely transported with joy. He was still in a state of bliss as he left her to make his way to the Post, promising that when night fell he would come for her to take her to a place of safety behind the wooden walls. Owindia had not said that she would go. She had merely told him to wait, and with this answer Natsatt had to be content.
Owindia walked slowly back to her father's lodge. Occasionally she turned and looked longingly toward the large door of the barricade through which her lover had gone. She paid no heed to the Indians, neither did she see the medicine man intently watching her some distance off. She did not know that he had been observing her as she walked along by Natsatt's side. She could not see the look upon the crafty creature's face, nor the malignant gleam which shone in his eyes. At the entrance of the lodge she seated herself, and watched the sun as hour after hour it dipped lower in the west. At length it swung just above the tops of the tallest fir trees, ready for its final plunge out of sight. Then Owindia rose to her feet, entered the lodge, and picking up a sharp knife slipped it within the bosom of her dress. Next she seized the small bundle she had made ready, hurried outside, gave one final glance toward the Post, and disappeared among the trees.