But Mr. Haydon made a gesture of antipathy to any converse with that individual.
“One meets so many astonishing things in this country,” he remarked, as though in extenuation of something. “The mere presence of such a savage in the sick girl’s room is enough to upset any one unused to this border life—it upset me completely. You see, I have a daughter of my own back East.”
“So Max tells me,” replied Overton, carelessly, all unconscious of the intended honor extended to him when Mr. Haydon made mention of his own family to a ranger of a few hours’ acquaintance.
“Yes,” Haydon continued, “and that naturally makes one feel an interest in any young girl without home or—relatives, as this invalid is; and I would be glad of any information concerning her—or any hint of help I might be to her, partly for—humanity’s sake, and partly for Max.”
“At present I don’t know of any service you could render her,” said Overton, coldly, conscious of a jarring, unpleasant feeling as the man talked to him. He thought idly to himself how queer it was that he should have an instinctive feeling of dislike for a person who in the slightest degree resembled ’Tana; and this stranger must have resembled her much before he grew stout and broad of face; the hair, the nose, and other points about 207 the features, were very much alike. He did not wonder that Akkomi might have been startled at it, and made comments. But as he himself surveyed Mr. Haydon’s features by the flickering light of the burning sticks, he realized how little the likeness of outlines amounted to after all, since not a shadow of expression on the face before him was like that of the girl whose sleep was so carefully guarded in the cabin.
And then, with a feeling of thankfulness that it was so, there flashed across his mind the import of the stranger’s closing words—“for the sake of Max.”
“For Max, you said. Well, maybe I am a little more stupid than usual to-night, but I must own up I can’t see how a favor to ’Tana could affect Max very much.”
“You do not?”
“I tell you so,” said Overton curtly, not liking the knowing smile in the eyes of the speaker. He did not want to be there talking to him, anyway. To walk alone under the stars was better than the discord of a voice unpleasant. Under the stars she had come to him that once—once, when she had been clasped close—close! when she had whispered words near to his heart, and their hands had touched in the magnetism of troubled joy. Ah! it was best to remember that, though death itself follow after! A short, impatient sigh touched his lips as he tried to listen to the words of the stranger while his thoughts were elsewhere.
“And Seldon would do something very handsome for Max if he married to suit him,” Haydon was saying, thoughtfully. “Seldon has no children, you know, and if this girl was sent to school for a while, I think it would come out all right—all right. I would take a personal interest to the extent of talking to Seldon of it. 208 He will think it a queer place for Max to come for a wife; but when—when I talk to him, he will agree. Yes, I can promise it will be all right.”