Natachee bowed his head.
“I beg your pardon. My choice of words was unfortunate but unintentional, I assure you. And yet,” he finished with quiet dignity, “it would be difficult for any one to imagine a woman like you being without a dream home.”
With a shudder the girl turned back to the fire.
Again that gleam of savage pleasure flashed in the eyes of the Indian.
“But I am forgetting,” he said, “you have had nothing to eat since noon and it is now past midnight. This is a poor sort of hospitality indeed.”
As he spoke he went to the cupboard and began putting dishes and food on the table.
The girl watched him curiously—his every movement was so sure, so complete and positive. There was no show of haste and yet every motion was as quick as the movements of a deer. He gave the impression of tremendous strength and energy, yet his touch was as light as the hand of a child, and his step as noiseless as the step of that great cat, the cougar. Indeed, as he went to and fro between the table, the cupboard and the fireplace, Marta thought of a mountain lion.
“And how do you know that I have had nothing to eat since noon?” she asked presently.
Without looking up from the venison steak he was preparing, he answered:
“You went to Oracle early in the afternoon—you did not stop at the Wheeler ranch on your way back—you did not go to Saint Jimmy’s—you did not go to Hugh Edwards’—you did not go home.”