“Why do you refuse to answer my questions?” Ross cried irritably.
Once more that peculiar, fleeting smile elevated the corners of Bradford’s mouth and accentuated the puckered scar upon his cheek.
Swiftly the two strode forward, overtaking and passing groups of stragglers, as they went. Descending into the river valley, they overhauled the main body of savages; and with them crossed the stream. As they were toiling up the opposite slope, Douglas turned to his companion and asked suddenly:
“What’s her name?”
“The Indians call her La Violette,” Bradford answered, as he gave a hitch to the pouch at his side and shifted his gun from one shoulder to the other.
“Ah!” Ross ejaculated.
“What do you mean by that knowing exclamation?” the older man inquired sharply.
“Nothing; only——”
“Only what?”
“That’s not an Indian name.”