A sharp pang clutched at the gentle woman’s heart as she watched the rider melting into the distance. She had scarcely thought before that sooner or later Bess might be so melting out of her life—that life of which she had grown to be such an integral part. How unconsciously had her love grown day by day! How dependent had she become upon the girl’s judgment and suggestions! And yet, the day was surely inevitable whose declining rays would not linger on a sweet, girlish face near the window, but rather pierce a woman’s heart with loneliness and pain.
“But then,” she thought, “it will be a long time yet before Mr. Davis will take her away and leave my arms empty once more, and doubly lone.”
Bess stood at her horse’s head patting his soft, sleek nose as the Indian rowed them across the Pend d’Oreille on the crude ferry boat. The only other passengers were a round-faced, fat squaw and two struggling papooses. At first Bess was oblivious to everything about her, when suddenly she was attracted by a shrill cry and turned just in time to jump to the edge and snatch a wet, wriggling bunch of humanity out of the water. Such a jargon of words as were meted out to the would-be voyager for his venturesomeness!
Bess quickly fastened Mauchacho’s bridle about the railing and soon had the sobbing, bedraggled victim snuggled in her arms. What did it matter to her if his skin was red or his hair matted! Was he not a baby in distress? The squaw looked with interest and wonder at the comforter; and finally when the howlings had ceased and only nervous little sobs came forth convulsively, she touched Bess on the arm and motioned that she would take the child. It did the girl’s heart good to see him snuggle down under the folds of the bright blanket like a little wet chicken seeking the warmth and comfort of its mother’s wing.
Again, just as the nose of the ferry was scraping on the pebbles at the landing, the squaw touched Bess upon the arm. She could not resist the silent appeal in the woman’s eyes as she held up for Bess’ acceptance a beautifully beaded belt. At first Bess quietly and smilingly pushed aside the proffered gift, but the look of disappointment given her caused her to relent, and then she fastened it securely around her own trim waist.
“Thank you, very much; it shall always remind me of you and the baby who nearly went down the stream.”
“You love him papoose? You hold Injun baby? You no care?” asked the woman, as she saw with gratified eyes her treasure worn by the white girl.
“I do not care if he is a papoose—he is one of God’s children,” Bess answered, and the woman understood.
The little incident was soon quite out of the girl’s mind, and only recurred as she touched the belt with her fingers or felt its dangling ends beat regularly against her side as Mauchacho galloped across the range. She had never before been in this direction, and all the hills and rocks held a new interest for her. Several times she checked her horse and slid quickly from her saddle to inspect some odd-looking stones, or to pluck some strange, new flower. Was not this tour of exploration fine! Perhaps she might discover something never seen nor heard of before! It surely seemed as if no one had ever set foot here, and as if she had come alone into an undiscovered and unexplored land. What fun to feel such utter isolation and possession! Riotous thoughts of adventure and daring and possible danger surged through the girl’s mind as her horse carried her on and further on into new places and over strange paths.
With a start she came out of her reverie, and straightening up in the saddle began to wonder at the time of day. Unheeded miles had passed under Mauchacho’s hoofs, and the slanting sun told her that the hour was late.