She shrugged helplessly. "Still weak," she said, "but there has been no return of fever. I have managed to keep the truth from him, but he suspects if. I cannot keep him in his room much longer."
"Ah! It makes me mad when I think of him!" Strange muttered.
There was a silence between them. His sympathy was sweet to her. She allowed it to lull her instinct of danger.
"What about the Kakisas?" she asked. "I gathered from Macfarlane's and Dr. Giddings's careful attempts to reassure me, that they feared danger from that source."
Strange smiled enigmatically.
"Surely the idea of an Indian attack is absurd," said Colina. "There hasn't been such a thing for thirty years."
"I know the Indians better than any man here," said Strange. "One may expect danger without being afraid."
"Danger!" cried Colina, elevating her eyebrows. "They would never dare!—"
"Not of themselves—but with a leader!"
"Ambrose Doane?" said Colina quickly. Her intelligence instantly rejected the suggestion, but self-love snatched at it in justification. Wounded vanity makes incongruous alliances. "That would be devilish!" she murmured.