“How?”
Seth shrugged.
“Guess it means a heap,” he said, and paused. Then a faint flush slowly spread over his thin, drawn face. “Nothin’ could ’a’ happened along now wuss 240 than Rosie’s gettin’ around,” he went on with intense feeling. “Can’t you see, Rube?” He reached out and laid an emphatic hand on his companion’s arm. “Can’t you see what’s goin’ to come? Ther’s trouble comin’ sure. Trouble for us all. Trouble for that gal. The news is around the Reservation now. It’ll reach Black Fox ’fore to-morrow mornin’, an’ then——Pshaw! Rube, I love that gal. She’s more to me than even you an’ Ma; she’s more to me than life. I can’t never marry her, seein’ how things are, but that don’t cut no figger. But I’m goin’ to see after her whatever happens. Ther’ ain’t no help comin’. Them few soldier-fellers don’t amount to a heap o’ beans. The Injuns ’ll chaw ’em up if they notion it. An’ I’m like a dead man, Rube—jest a hulk. God, Rube, if harm comes to that pore gal——Pshaw!”
Seth’s outburst was so unusual that Rube stared in silent amazement. It seemed as if his bodily weakness had utterly broken down the stern self-repression usually his. It was as though with the weakening of muscle had come a collapse of his wonderful self-reliance, and against his will he was driven to seek support.
Rube removed his pipe from his mouth. His slow moving brain was hard at work. His sympathy was not easy for him to express.
“Guess it ain’t easy, Seth, boy,” he said judicially, at last. “Them things never come easy if a man’s a man. I’ve felt the same in the old days, ’fore Ma 241 an’ me got hitched. Y’ see the Injuns wus wuss them days—a sight. Guess I jest sat tight.”
Though so gently spoken, the old man’s words had instant effect. Already Seth was ashamed of his weakness. He knew, no one better, the strenuous life of single-hearted courage this old man had lived.
“I’m kind o’ sorry I spoke, Rube. But I ain’t jest thinkin’ o’ myself.”
“I know, boy. You’re jest worritin’ ’cause you’re sick. I know you. You an’ me are goin’ to set tight. Your eye ’ll be on the gal; guess I’ll figger on Ma. These sort o’ troubles jest come and go. I’ve seen ’em before. So’ve you. It’s the gal that makes the diff’rence fer you. Say, lad,” Rube laid a kindly hand on the sick man’s drooping shoulders, and his manner became lighter, and there was a twinkle in his deep-set eyes, “when I’d located that I wanted Ma fer wife I jest up an’ sez so. I ’lows the job wa’n’t easy. I’d a heap sooner ’a’ let daylight into the carkises of a dozen Injuns. Y’ see wimmin’s li’ble to fool you some. When they knows you’re fixed on ’em they jest makes you hate yourself fer a foolhead. It’s in the natur’ of ’em. They’re most like young fillies ’fore they’re broke—I sez it wi’out disrespec’. Y’ see a wummin ain’t got a roarin’ time of it in this world. An’ jest about when a man gets fixed on ’em is their real fancy time, an’ they ain’t slow to take all ther’ is comin’. An’ I sez they’re dead right. An’ jest when you’re bustin’ to 242 tell ’em how you’re feelin’—an’ ain’t got the savee—they’re jest bustin’ to hear that same. An’ that’s how I got figgerin’ after awhiles, an’ so I ups an’ has it out squar’. Y’ see,” he finished, with an air of pride which brought a smile to Seth’s face, “I kind o’ swep’ Ma off her feet.”
The younger man had no reply to make. His mind went back to Ma’s version of Rube’s courtship. Rube, thoroughly enjoying his task of rousing the other’s drooping spirits, went on, carried away by his own enthusiasm.