III
Returning to Fort Walsh, Hector had time to grasp the full significance of the chief's proposal. He had not even faintly foreseen that the old man's gratitude would express itself in the form it had actually taken. Marriage was far from his thoughts. Moon? He was fond of Moon and admired her in many ways—but not in that way. He admired and loved Sleeping Thunder. Hitherto relations between them had been ideal. But this sudden rock had split them and emphasized the unalterable differences in race and life. He wished with all his soul that things could have remained as they were.
Well, the thing was done and over! Only one course of action now remained for either party—to forget it all as soon as possible.
But here he found himself mistaken.
He had just come off duty on the afternoon when Sleeping Thunder was to start for the reserve when he was informed that an Indian was asking for him at the entrance to the fort.
The Indian was Loud Gun, recently back from hospital.
"How!" said Loud Gun, raising a hand in salute and looking down on Hector with his keen, proud eyes.
"How!" returned Hector. "What do you want?"
In a few words, the Indian explained. Moon-on-the-Water Water had sent him. Would Hector go with him and ask no questions?
A few minutes later Hector was in the saddle.