“Why this trip?” Bill’s question came sharply.
The Indian raised his eyes. Then they dropped again to the fire and he shook his head.
“You won’t tell me? Why?” Bill demanded again. “Ther’s no need for any trip. Ther’s work right here for you, for all. Ther’s gold, plenty, which you can share. Why?”
Again came the Indian’s shake of the head. His eyes were raised again for a moment and Bill read and interpreted the brooding light that gazed out of them. The man seemed about to speak, but his hard mouth tightened visibly, and again he stubbornly shook his head and returned to his contemplation of the fire.
Suddenly Bill sprang to his feet and held out his hand. In an instant the Indian was on his feet, and his dark face was even smiling. His tenacious hand closed over that of the whiteman.
“That’s all right, Usak,” Bill said quietly. “I’m glad to take your hand. You’re a big man. You’re a big Indian savage. But you’re a good man, anyway. Get right back to your shanty now, an’ take that darn old gun with you. You don’t need that fer shooting me up, anyway. Just keep it—to guard the Kid, and those others. Just one word before you go. Marty kept his gold secret. You keep it secret, too, until the Kid lets you speak. I’ve got to make a big trip to secure the claims before we can talk. When I done that talk don’t matter. Say, an’ not a word to the Kid of our talk. Not one word. I want to marry her. And being white folk it’s our way to ask the girl first. See? I haven’t asked her yet. An’ if you were to boost in your spoke, maybe she’d get angry, and—”
“Usak savee.”
The Indian was grinning in a fashion that left the whiteman satisfied. Their hands fell apart, and Usak picked up his gun. Then he turned away without another word and the night swallowed him up.
Wilder stood gazing after him, There was no smile in his eyes. He was thinking hard. And his thought was of that one, big, last trip the Indian had threatened to make.