Amalia looked up in his face with a puzzled expression for a moment. “Get––out––of––him?” she asked.
“I mean, what did they want him to tell?”
“Ah, that I know not. It was never told. If they could find him, I think they would try again to learn of him something which he only can tell. I think if they could find my mother, they would now try to learn from her what my father knew, but her lips are like the grave. At that time he had told her nothing, but since then––when we were far out in the wilderness––I do not know. I hope my mother 193 will never be found. Is it a very secret place to which we go?”
“I might call it that––yes. I’ve lived there for twenty years and no white man has found me yet, until the young man, Harry King, was pitched over the edge of eternity and only saved by a––well––a chance––likely.”
The young woman gazed at him wide-eyed, and drew in her breath. “You saved him.”
“If he obeyed me––I did.”
“And all the twenty years were you alone?”
“I always had a horse.”
“But for a companion––had you never one?”
“Never.”