Ulalah’s eyes thanked the big-hearted hunter a thousand times, and drank the broth with an avidity that told of long fasting.
The day passed away at length, and when Doc Bell returned from a reconnoissance beyond the cave, and declared his readiness to begin his hunt for his friends, and, may be too, for the she fiend, Ulalah griped the trader’s rifle and sprung to her feet.
“What! girl, ain’t you going to stay with Oll, as you promised to do?” cried the hunter gazing in amazement upon the passion ruled form that swayed before him like the wind beset sapling.
She shook her head, and gritted her teeth with determination.
“The white man may die,” said Doc, calmly, gently touching the girl’s arm, “an’ then what would his Lone Dove do? Girl, you will stay with him, to bathe his brow when the fever comes, and to moisten his lips when they cry for water. I will not be long away; I’ll be as swift as the lightning, an’ God helpin’ me as destructive, too! Yes, girl—poor tongueless gir’ stay with the weak man till the hunter comes back.”
His pleadings availed the hunter naught, for Ulalah shook her head more resolutely than ever, and brought her foot down with a firmness that said:
“No more words; I am going with you!”
Doc Bell read the action correctly.
“She won’t listen to any thing, Oll,” he said. “She wants to meet that mad mother ov hers, an’ she’s bound to go with me. I hate to leave you alone, but I’ve got to do it.”
“Go, Doc—go. I can get along. Go and tear Kate from him!”