She stood lost in thought for some moments. And as she thought a sudden light came to her. She drew closer to her companion and laid one hand on his arm.
“I think I see, Seth,” she said, and then became silent.
The man moved, and his action was almost a rebuff. That touch had stirred him. The gentle pressure of her hand sent the blood coursing through his 277 veins, and he restrained the hot, passionate words that sprang to his lips only with a great effort. The girl accepted his movement as a rebuff and shrank away. But she spoke vehemently.
“If I’d only thought—oh, if I’d only thought! I should have known. All that has gone before should have told me. It is my coming back that has precipitated matters.” Her voice had sunk to a low tone of humility and self-accusation. “And, Seth, now I understand why you were shot. It was Little Black Fox. And I, fool that I was, dared to show myself on the Reservation. And he saw me. I might have known, I might have known.”
There was a piteous ring in her low tones. Seth stirred again, but she went on desperately.
“Yes, I see it all. A descent will be made upon us, upon this farm. You will be done to death for me. Ma and Pa, and auntie and—and you.”
She paused, but went on again at once.
“Yes, and I see further now. I see what you have already grasped. They have these scouts out around the fort to watch. When it comes they mean to cut the soldiers off. There will be no help for us. Only—only this stockade. Oh, Seth, how can you forgive me! You and Pa have foreseen all this trouble. And you have prepared for it all you can. Is there no help? Can I do nothing to atone for what I have done? You stand there without a word of blame for me. You never blame me—any of you. I wish I were dead! Seth, why don’t you kill me?” 278
But as the girl’s hysterical outburst reached its culminating point, Seth regained perfect mastery of himself. He noted the rush of tears which followed her words with a pang of infinite pity, but he told himself that he dare not attempt to comfort her. Instead, his calm voice, with its wonderful power of reassurance, fell upon the stillness of the night.
“Little gal, things are jest as they must be. The blame is on me fer not bein’ quicker an’ handier wi’ my gun when I had the chance. But, howsum, Parker’s a hefty man. He ken think an’ act quick. We’re ready, far as we ken be.”