“Where the wolf is there is much danger for the squaw. Indian squaw—or white. I, too, learn these things. I learn from much that I hear—and see.”
“I know,” Seth nodded.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
“Wanaha is glad. The white brave will watch over the young squaw.” The woman smiled again. Seth thought he detected a sigh of relief. He understood this woman as well as it is given to man to understand any woman—even an Indian woman.
“This wolf won’t bother about the gran’ma,” said Seth, looking straight into Wanaha’s eyes. “He’s after the young squaw.”
“And he will have the young squaw soon.”
Wanaha abruptly turned away and hurried round to the entrance of the Mission. The sound of people moving within the building told her that the Sunday-school was over. Her silent going suggested that she had no wish to be seen talking in private to Seth. 106
Seth remained where he was. His delay may have been intentional, yet he had the appearance of deep preoccupation. He quite understood that Wanaha’s presence during his story had been deliberate. She had left her own class on some trifling excuse and come out to warn him, knowing that he would be alone with his children. There was no smile on his face while he stood thinking, only a pucker between his dark brows, and an odd biting of his under-lip.
At last he shook himself as though he found the shade chilly, and, a moment later, sauntered round to the front of the building in time to meet the others coming out.