“No, to tell the truth, I was attracted to the man from the first,” he said more honestly. “By what the Indians said about his healing the sick and so on. And they said he was young. I have no friend of my own age up here—I mean no real friend. So I thought—well, I would like to know him.”
“I like that,” she said simply.
There was a silence.
“Why don’t you—sometime—go to him?” she said, with what seemed almost like a breathless air.
“I am going,” said Stonor simply. “I received permission in the last mail. The government wants me to look over the Kakisa Indians to see if they are ready for a treaty. The policy is to leave the Indians alone as long as they are able to maintain themselves under natural conditions. But as soon as they need help the government takes charge; limits them to a reservation; pays an annuity, furnishes medical attention, and so on. This is called taking treaty. The Kakisas are one of the last wild tribes left.”
She seemed scarcely to hear him. “When are you going?” she asked with the same air of breathlessness.
“As soon as the steamboat goes back.”
“How far is it to Swan River?”
“Something under a hundred and fifty miles. Three days’ hard riding or four days’ easy.”
“And how far down to the great falls?”