MacFarlane could not well refuse. He followed his chief through the snow.
"Now, Mac"—when they were comfortably seated—"we'll talk a certain matter over, man to man."
MacFarlane, under heavy, frowning brows, searched his face. Hector was pale, with shadows under his eyes, as if he had not slept well for several nights. MacFarlane sensed vaguely the gist of what his chief was going to say.
"All right, Hec'," he said, striving to be thoroughly at home. "What is it?"
"You've seen this?"
Hector pushed over a folded newspaper—the Prophet, containing the story of Moon.
Despite himself, MacFarlane could not quite conceal his uneasiness. After a moment he pushed the paper back.
"Well?" he challenged.
"Do you know to whom that paragraph refers? No? It refers to me. The girl is Moon-on-the-Water, daughter of Sleeping Thunder, of the Assiniboines. You remember her, of course?"
"Perfectly."