“You see I know I shall be told when it becomes expedient. How would you like to make hay in these lovely open fields, Marjorie?” she asked the violet-eyed child, gazing so steadfastly at this new world about her.
But Marjorie shook her head. She was a little overpowered.
“It’s so big, mamma,” she murmured, doubtfully.
At that moment one of the two horsemen ahead beckoned to the man a little peremptorily, and he rode off. Then the child turned to her mother.
“What did you mean about the Indians, mamma?”
But the mother did not answer; she was watching her husband, who had just joined the others, and she saw that all three were watching something that looked like smoke on the northwestern horizon.
“Don’t Indians eat people, mamma?” asked the child presently.
Her mother laughed shortly, and answered, “No.” The answer came a little more sharply than she usually spoke. Suddenly she leant forward and touched the driver on the shoulder. He turned round instantly.
“What is that smoke on the horizon, Jim?” she asked.
The man looked into her steady gray eyes. Then 21 he glanced down at the beautiful child at her side, and, in a moment, his gaze came back to the handsome dark face of the mother; but instantly he turned back to the horses.