As was her custom Rosebud handed the woman the reins to hook upon the wall. She was constrained to do without her usual greeting, for she knew that, here too, she must deceive to gain her ends. It would be madness to tell the half-tamed savage her real intentions. Wanaha’s love for her was great, but well she knew that blood is thicker than water, and a savage’s blood more particularly so than anybody’s else.
Once inside the hut Wanaha was the first to speak.
“You come? On this night?” she questioned, choosing her English words with her usual care.
The girl permitted no unnecessary delay in plunging into the object of her visit.
“Yes, yes, my Wana,” she replied, drawing the tall woman to her, so that, in the dim starlight, they sat together on the edge of the bed. Her action was 307 one of tender affection. Wanaha submitted, well pleased that her white friend had allowed nothing of the doings of her people to come between them. “Yes, I come to you for help. I come to you because I want to remove the cause of all the trouble between your people and mine. Do you know the source of the trouble? I’ll tell you. I am!”
Rosebud looked fixedly in the great dark eyes, so soft yet so radiant in the starlight.
“I know. It is—my brother. He want you. He fight for you. Kill, slay. It matter not so he have you.”
The woman nodded gravely. The girl’s heart bounded, for she saw that her task was to be an easy one.
“Yes, so it is. I have thought much about this thing. I should never have come back to the farm. It was bad.”
Again Wanaha nodded.