"Pay thee no heed," said Catherine. "For, if she meant a tenth part of that which she saith, her portion would be perdition, albeit her spirit dwelleth in Rain's tent."
Storm dared not ask about Rain.
"I've just left Rain," said mother, "asleep and asking for thee. Thou must not come, son."
"Why?"
"Because if thee comes in the spirit she will leave her body to meet thee, and then she won't get back again. Dost thee want her to croak? Then don't be silly. Come in thy body like a man, so that thy wife seeth thee in the flesh and cleaveth to the earth-life for thy sake. The poor thing prays for death. Make her pray for life. Now promise. S'elp you Bob!"
"S'elp me Bob."
"That's right." The sensible old woman turned briskly to Thunder Feather. "Dost gloat on Hell, eh? Come back to thy child or—or I'll smack thee black and blue."
The Indian spirit got up, favored Storm with a demure wink, and meekly followed Catherine back to duty.
* * * * * * *
Despite his mother's comforting words, the taunts of Thunder Feather had bitten so very deeply that Storm awakened, yelling. He raved to the three Indians that he had failed his wife in her need, and they, supposing him to be unmarried, thought he had gone crazy.