“It is so. Little Black Fox is fierce. He never listen. No. But you think much. You, who are clever more than all the wise men of my race.” 138
Wanaha served her husband with his food. Whatever might be toward, her duty by him came first. Nevil sat eating in what appeared to be a moody silence. The velvety eyes watched his every expression, and, in sympathy, the woman’s face became troubled too.
“Well, of course we must warn—some one,” Nevil went on at last. “But the question is, who? If I go to the Agent, it’ll raise trouble. Parker is bullheaded, and sure to upset Black Fox. Likely he’ll stop his going hunting. If I warn old Rube Sampson it’ll amount to the same thing. He’ll go to the Agent. It must be either Seth or Rosebud.”
“Good, good,” assented the Indian woman eagerly. “You say it to Seth.”
Nevil ate silently for some minutes, while the woman looked on from her seat beside the stove. Whatever was troubling the man it did not interfere with his appetite. He ate coarsely, but his Indian wife only saw that he was healthily hungry.
“Yes, you’re right again, my Wana,” Nevil exclaimed, with apparent appreciation. “I’d prefer to tell Seth, but if I did he’d interfere in a manner that would be sure to rouse your brother’s suspicions. And you know what he is. He’d suspect me or you. He’d throw caution to the devil, and then there’d be trouble. It’s a delicate thing, but I can’t stand by and see anything happen to your chum, my Wana.”
“No; I love the paleface girl,” replied Wanaha, simply. 139
“It comes to this,” Nevil went on, with something like eagerness in his manner. “We must warn her, and trust to her sense. And mind, I think she’s smart enough.”
“How?”
The woman’s dark eyes looked very directly into the man’s. Nevil was smiling again. His anxiety and perplexity seemed suddenly to have vanished, now that he had come to his point; as though the detailing of his fears to her had been the real source of his trouble.