“No. If it could happen in a open fight—that’s different. It wouldn’t do any good to hurt her by killin’ him. But I wish he was dead!”
We stopped and ate and rode several miles before either of us spoke again. Then I said:
“There’s a girl ahead, about your age.”
He was disturbed to hear it and I feared he would wish to leave me.
“I don’t want her captured by Indians,” I added.
“God forbid it!” he hoarsely cried.
Having prepared him for seeing Patricia, I shifted his line of thought by asking, “What do you think of John Ward?”
“Injun.”
I said nothing and after a few minutes he went on:
“Took by Injuns when a little boy, just like Tavenor Ross and George Collet was took. I’ve heard traders tell about the three of ’em. When they’re took so young they grow up just as much Injuns as if they was born red. Ward’s that way. Must be. Look at the sister I lost!”