"Indeed I have, miss," Dan replied, glancing toward the constable. "The Injuns are havin' a big pow-wow. They can't decide whether to have peace, or fight it out. Guess they'll keep it up all night by the look of things. I watched 'em fer some time, an' made out the drift of their harangues, which are sartinly mighty long. Hishu Sam had the floor, or I should say, the ground, when I left. He's got a purty level head. Anyway I do hope it will be peace, fer I'm gittin' mighty anxious to be away an' take this poor chap back to Big Glen. I see thar's no change in 'im yit."
"None," Madeline replied. "He's just the same as when you left."
"An' ye've been watchin' 'im ever since? Ye look tired, miss. Don't ye think ye should have a bite to eat, an' take a little rest? But whar's the kid? He must be hungry."
At these words Madeline sprang to her feet in alarm. So intent had she been with thinking of other things that she had forgotten all about the child. It was not natural for him to be so quiet. She had left him playing in the next room, and he had always come to her when he needed anything. Hurrying to the door she looked at the place on the floor where she had left him. He was not there. She glanced about the room until her eyes rested upon the bed, and there among the tossed blankets nestled the little lad fast asleep. Madeline gave a sigh of relief as she stood and watched him.
"Poor, wee chap," she remarked, turning to the trapper. "He was certainly worn out, and crawled into bed himself, and fell asleep."
"Ay, ay, indeed he needs rest," Dan responded. "An' so do you, miss. Jist swaller some of yon grub, an' take yerself off, or else I'll have two patients on me hands. Ye'll need all yer strength fer what lies ahead."
"I know it, I know it. You are kind to think of me," and Madeline gave the old man a bright smile of gratitude as he turned and left the room.