The Kid stirred restlessly under his words and manner. His smile, which was intended for no unkindness, became a hateful thing to her. And she understood the reason. She knew that her explanation was without truth. She had trapped herself into foolish evasion. She knew she had desired herself to see this man again. She knew— But she permitted herself no further admission. Anger rose swiftly in her, and she sprang to her feet. Her pretty eyes flashed in the yellow light and for the first time in his life the Indian realised something of that which centuries of civilization has bred into the white-woman.
“How dare you say that to me?” she cried. “You—an Indian!” She laughed a curious shrill sort of laugh. “What is it you say? ‘Injun man no good.’ Maybe you’re right. I’m your good boss Marty’s daughter. Remember that. I’m your boss. Your white boss. And now I tell you to obey. You leave that whiteman, all those whitemen alone. I tell you this. Who’re you to say who comes on this river? Who’re you anyway? Usak, the Indian. An Indian—the servant of my dead father, and now my servant. Remember!”
She stood in the fitful light a tall slim figure of angry authority and outraged womanhood. And the great Indian stood cowed before the torrent of her scorn and wrath. No longer was the smiling derision in his eyes. No longer was that blaze of volcanic wrath in them. She had smote him in the most vulnerable joint of his armour. His worshipped idol had turned and rended him, and spurned him as she might some pariah.
The great fellow’s eyes avoided the girl’s. His simian length of arms left his great hands hanging seemingly helpless by his sidies. His great size reduced him to a painful picture of pathetic dejection. The Kid’s swift scorn had beaten him as nothing else in the world could have beaten him.
She moved towards the door without a further glance in his direction. Her body was erect, and her heart was hard set and coldly determined. There was no pause or further word. But she knew.
It came as she reached the door. There was a sound behind her. The next moment Usak was beside her holding out the precious black fox skin she had left.
“You tak him this?” he said, in a tone of humility and appeal that was irresistible to the girl who knew so well all he had always been to her. “I mak him this trade for the white boss, Kid. I see ’em five Euralian by the camp. I kill ’em all up dead. So I mak tak ’em this black fox, an’ this ivory. Oh, yes. I kill ’em all man’s for white boss, Kid. All time I do this. I do all thing for Kid. So as she say—all time.”
The girl looked up into the man’s dark eyes. In a moment her heart melted. She took the priceless skin from his hands and laid it over her arm with one hand resting caressingly upon it.
“You killed five Euralian men for this?” she said.
“I kill ’em, yes,” the man returned simply.