“Yes, it best so,” the woman said in reply. She understood the condition of her husband’s mind. She saw clearly that she must humor him.
Whatever her innermost thoughts may have been she made her replies subservient to his humor. She had listened closely to his account of his interview with her brother, and there is little doubt that she had formed her own opinion, and, being of the blood of the chief, she probably understood him better than this white man did. But whatever she really thought no word of it escaped her.
Another silence fell. Again it was the man who broke it.
“That Jim Crow is very active. He comes and goes all day. He interviews Little Black Fox whenever he pleases. He’s a two-faced rascal. Do you know, it was he who brought the news of relief to the farm. And what’s more, he came in with the soldiers. I always seem to see him about. Once I thought he was watching my movements. I wonder why?”
The man drooped dejectedly as he tried to unravel this fresh tangle. Why was Jim Crow shadowing him? In the interests of the Indians? Again he pulled out his watch. And the woman beside him saw that his hand was shaking as he held it out to the light of the stove. 351
It was time to hitch up his horses, he said. Yet they were not starting until dawn, and it still wanted a full hour to the time.
Wanaha sat up, and Nevil moved about amongst the litter of their belongings. There was coffee on the stove and food on the table. He helped himself to both, bolting meat and drink in a nervous, hasty manner. Wanaha joined him. She ate sparingly, and then began to gather their goods together.
Nevil turned to her. He was preparing to fetch the horses which were picketed out on the prairie. He was in better mood now. Action restored in him a certain amount of confidence.
“It will be good to get away, my Wana,” he said, for a moment laying one hand upon her shoulder.
The woman looked up into his mean face with a world of love in her profound eyes.