When he returned a half hour later the jubilant expression had left his face, and his furrowed brow was troubled. He noted the happy scene in the Mission House, Norman and Madeline sitting close to each other, with Donnie playing near by.
"They're gone!" he exclaimed. "Them Injuns, the mean wretches, have cleared out."
"Well, what does it matter, Dan?" Grey replied. "We don't need them now, do we?"
"Don't need 'em? Don't need 'em, do ye say? It's jist the time we do need 'em. Jist as soon as ye git a little more strength into yer body we've got to hike outer this back to Hishu. I wanted them Injuns to go with us, fer I'm thinkin' thar'll be trouble up yon with Siwash Bill an' his gang. With them Injuns at me back I'd soon settle thar hash. But now they've hiked off to the interior—both Hishus an' Big Lakes—to hold a great pot-latch. Blame their dusky skins. They're jist as troublesome an' unsartin as a hull nest of fleas."
"But we can face them, Dan," Grey insisted. "I feel stronger every minute, and I have good cause for it, too, have I not? Oh, Dan, this is the happiest day of my life. The veil is not only lifted from my mind, but the veil so dark and terrible which separated Madeline and me is lifted, too. Come, banish that gloom from your face, and be happy with us for to-day. We've had enough darkness and hardship together of late, Dan, so let us enjoy the sunshine and joy for a few hours at least. To-morrow we can start back to Hishu. I do not fear those vile serpents now, though, they were ten to one."
"Very wall, pardner," and Dan scratched his head doubtfully. "I don't want to spile yer pleasure to-day. So I'll jist think me thoughts, an' hold me tongue fer a change."