CHAPTER XII.
PARTNERS.
“Well, I’ve been a ’hoodoo’ all my, life; and if I only lead some one into luck now—good luck—oh, wouldn’t I learn a sun-dance, and dance it!”
The world was two weeks older, and it was ’Tana who spoke; not the troubled ’Tana who had crouched beside the paralytic and cowered under her fear of Overton’s distrust, but a girl grown lighter-hearted by the help of work to be done—work in which she was for once to stand side by side with Overton himself, for his decision about the prospecting had been in her favor. He had “spoken up,” as she had asked him to do, and a curious three-cornered partnership had been arranged the next day; a very mysterious partnership, of which no word was told to any one. Only ’Tana suddenly decided that the schooling must wait a little longer. Lyster would have to make the trip to Helena without her; she was not feeling like it just then, and so forth.
Therefore, despite the very earnest arguments of Mr. Lyster, he did have to go alone. During all the journey, he was conscious of a quite unreasonable disappointment, an impatience with even Overton, for not enforcing his authority as guardian, and insisting that she at once commence the many studies in which she was sadly deficient. 151
But Overton had stood back and said nothing. Lyster did not understand it, and could not succeed in making either of them communicative.
“You’ll be back here in less than a month,” said Overton. “We will send her then, if she feels equal to it. In the meantime, we’ll take the best care we can of her here at the Ferry. I find I will have time to look after her a little until then. I have only one short trip to make up the river; so don’t get uneasy about her. She’ll be ready to go next run you make, sure.”
So Lyster wondered, dissatisfied, and went away. He was even a little more dissatisfied with his last memory of the girl—a vision of her bending over that unknown, helpless miner. His sympathies were with the man. He was most willing to assist, in a financial way, toward taking care of one so unfortunate. But the thing he was not willing to do was to see ’Tana devote herself without restraint to the welfare of a stranger—a man they knew nothing of—a fellow who, of course, could have no appreciation of the great luck he was in to have her constantly beside him. It was a clean waste of exceptionable sympathy; and a squaw, or some miner out of work, would do as well in this case.
He even offered to pay for a squaw, or for any masculine nurse; but the girl had very promptly suggested that he busy himself with his own duties, if he had any. She stated further that he had no control whatever over her actions, and she could not understand—