The boy’s mouth popped open, but without uttering a sound he stooped and grabbed for his rifle. I placed my foot on it and seized his arm and pleaded with him to regain his senses before he took any action. During all this the warrior remained as passive as the tree-roots against which he half-reclined.
After a brief hysterical outburst Cousin stood erect and ceased struggling with me. And all the time his sister had watched us speculatively, her gaze as cold and impersonal as though she had been looking at a rock. It was very hideous. It was one of those damnable situations which must end at once, and to which there can be no end. For the boy to kill his sister’s husband was an awful thing to contemplate.
I pulled the lad back and softly whispered:
“You can’t do it. The blood would always be between you two. She has changed. She believes she is red. Take her aside and talk with her. If she will go with you make for the mountains and get her to the settlements.”
“An’ him?”
“I will wait an hour. If you two do not return before an hour—Well, he will not bother you.”
At first he did not seem to understand; then he seized my free hand and gripped it tightly. Taking his rifle, he approached the girl and took her by the arm.
“Come,” he gently told her. “We must talk, you and I. I have hunted for you for years.”
She was suspicious of us two, but she did not resist him.
“Wait,” she said.