“Which, interpreted, means that I had better be at other business than gossiping,” said Mr. Seldon, with much good humor. “Well, you are a fine pair, and something alike, too—you goldfinders! She snubbed Max for trying to persuade her, and you snub me. As a last resort, I think I shall try to get that old Indian into our lobbying here. He is her next great friend, I hear.”
“I haven’t seen him in camp to-day, for a wonder; but he is sure to be around before night.”
“But, you see, we are to go on up to the new works on the lake to-day, and be back day after to-morrow. I wish you, too, could go up to-morrow, for I would like your judgment about some changes we expect to make. Could you leave here for twenty-four hours?”
“I’ll try,” promised Overton. “But the new men from the Ferry will be up to-day or to-morrow, so I may not reach there until you are about ready to start back.” 247
“Come anyway, if you can, I don’t seem to get much chance to talk to you here in camp—maybe I could on the river. You may be in a more reasonable mood about ’Tana by that time, and try to influence her to partake of civilization.”
“‘Civilization!’ Oh, yes, of course, you imagine it all lies east of the Appalachian range,” remarked Overton, slightingly. “I expect that from a man of Haydon’s stamp, but not from you.”
Seldon only laughed.
“One would think you had been born and bred out here in the West,” he remarked, “while you are really only an importation. But what is that racket about?”
For screeches were sounding from the cabin—cries, feminine and frightened.
Overton and Seldon started for it, as did several of the workmen, but their haste slackened as they saw ’Tana leaning against a doorway and laughing, while the squaw stood near her, chuckling a little as a substitute for merriment.