The Kid nodded. Her gaze was averted with just a shadow of shyness.
“I’d just love the trip,” she declared quickly. Then her shyness passed and her sweet blue eyes laughed happily into the man’s face. “What is it? Have you found Perse’s color? Ther’s sure something back of this,” she went on in delighted enjoyment, as she watched the man’s expressive face as he strove for unconcern. She shook her head. “No,” she declared. “Guess it’s not Perse’s gold. I guess you reckon Mum’s cooking isn’t the thing she believes, and you’re goin’ to show us the sort of swell thing Chilcoot and you make of it. My! I’m dying to see how two great men live on the trail. Sure I’ll come, an’ so will Mary, an’ Clarence, an’ Perse. Do we need to fix ourselves for the party? Perse most always needs fixing, anyway.”
There was a laugh in every word the girl spoke, and to the man it was a delight to listen to her, and to watch the play of her expressive face.
To the mother eyes there was that in the girl’s manner which wholly escaped the man. She knew the Kid was striving with everything in her power to conceal the feelings Wilder had so deeply stirred in her. She sighed quietly, and hoped and prayed that all might be for the best happiness of the girl she had come to lean on so surely in the battle they fought together for existence. She only had her instinct to guide her. She had no real worldly wisdom. She liked the steady, honest gaze of Bill’s eyes. So she yielded to that best philosophy in the world, which, in sober moments, she was wont to hurl at her inquiring offspring: “Act right, an’ eat good, an’ don’t worry to get after Fate with a club.”
Bill laughed. He was in the mood to laugh.
“No,” he said. “Come right along, just as you’re fixed. Chilcoot don’t reckon to receive you in swallowtails. Maybe he’s greased his roof with seal oil to make it shine some. I can’t say. Ah, here’s Clarence, an’ Mary, and Master Perse. Now beat it all of you and get right into parkas. Your Mum figgers to be rid of you awhile so you’re coming right along to eat with me. Guess Chilcoot’ll be nigh frozen to death waiting down at the river.”
The leanto was shadowed. The single oil lamp cast its feeble rays on the general litter. And the scene was characteristic of the Indian whose methods obtained so largely in the running of the farm.
Usak laboured silently, grimly amongst the shadows. His movements were in that quiet fashion which the padding of moccasined feet on an earthen floor never fails to intensify. He was quite alone now, for the last of his helpers had departed at the urgent summons of the boy, Perse, who had bidden them to the presence of their visitor.
The man’s dusky face was hard-set as he moved about amongst his chattels. His black eyes were narrowed and pre-occupied. There were moments when he paused from his labours and stood listening. It was as though he expected some jarring sound which he was ready to resent and hate with all the strength of his heart.