"I have been thinking of that," replied Rod, his eyes softening. "You know mother is alone, and—her—"
"I understand," interrupted the Indian boy, laying a hand fondly across his companion's arm.
"—her funds are small, you know," Rod finished. "If she has been sick—or—anything like that—"
"Yes, we've got to get back with our furs," helped Wabi, a tremor of tenderness in his own voice. "And if you don't mind, Rod, I might take a little run down to Detroit with you. Do you suppose she would care?"
"Care!" shouted Rod, bringing his free hand down upon Wabi's arm with a force that hurt. "Care! Why, she thinks as much of you as she does of me, Wabi! She'd be tickled to death! Do you mean it?"
Wabi's bronzed face flushed a deeper red at his friend's enthusiasm.
"I won't promise—for sure," he said. "But I'd like to see her—almost as much as you, I guess. If I can, I'll go."
Rod's face was suffused with a joyful glow.
"And I'll come back with you early in the summer and we'll start out for the gold," he cried. He jumped to his feet and slapped Mukoki on the back in the happy turn his mind had taken. "Will you come, too, Mukoki? I'll give you the biggest 'city time' you ever had in your life!"
The old Indian grinned and chuckled and grunted, but did not reply in words. Wabi laughed, and answered for him.