There is no kindness in the man’s tone as he speaks to the woman. He is beset with a fear he cannot conceal. It is in his tone, it is in his eyes, it is in his very restlessness.
The woman is calm. She is an Indian, and in her veins runs the blood of generations of great chiefs. Fear has no place in her heart, but her devotion to her man makes her anxious for him. Her slow, labored use of his language is meant to encourage him, but he takes no comfort from it. His utter selfishness, his cowardice, place him beyond mere verbal encouragement.
“It still wants two hours to dawn,” Nevil exclaimed, referring to his watch for about the twentieth time in the last hour. “God, how the time hangs!”
The woman’s dark eyes were upon his nervous face. She noted the anxious straining of his shifty eyes. Their whites were bloodshot, and his brows were drawn together in the painful concentration of a mind fixed upon one thought.
“It will pass,” she said, with all the hopefulness she could express.
“Of course it will. Do you suppose I don’t know?” The man spoke with harsh irritation. “You—you don’t seem to understand.”
“Wanaha understands.” The squaw nodded. Then she, too, gave way to a slight irritation. “Why 349 you not sleep, my Nevil? Wanaha watch. It a long journey. Sleep, my husband. You fear foolish. So.”
The man turned scornful eyes in her direction, and for a moment did not speak. Then presently he said—
“Sometimes I think it’s unnecessary for us to go. I can’t make up my mind. I never had such difficulty in seeing clearly before. Your brother was so quiet and calm. He spoke so generously. I told him the whole story. How I was forced by that damned Seth to go into the fort. And how I was forced to fight. Pshaw! what’s the use of talking? I’ve told you all this already. Yet he listened to all I had to say, and as I made each point he nodded in that quiet, assured way of his—you know. I think he understood and was satisfied. I think so—and yet—it’s no use, I can’t be sure. I wish he’d lost his temper in his usual headstrong way. I understand him when he is like that. But he didn’t. He was very calm.
“Do you know, my Wana, it seemed to me that he’d heard my story before, told by some one else, probably told with variations to suit themselves. It seemed to me that—well, he was only listening to me because he had to. I swear I’d give ten years of my life to know what he really thinks. Yes, I think I’m right. Once away from here we are safe. Neither he nor any of the braves can follow us. The soldiers will see that none leave the Reservations. 350 Yes, I’m sure it’s best to get away. It can do no harm, and it’s best to be sure. Still an hour and three-quarters,” he finished up, again referring to his watch.