you mean?" came the reply. "Me no savvey."
"How much I pay you? How much money you want?"
For a minute the native did not reply. He stood like a statue. Then he turned his piercing eyes full upon the constable's face.
"Me no tak pay," he almost fiercely rejoined. "No, no, ugh!"
"But why no take pay?" Grey insisted. "You save baby's life. You do much good."
"No, no, me no tak pay. You savvey Injun bah-bee in camp?"
Grey nodded.
"Wan, two, seex winter mebbe, Injun bah-bee velly seek. Heem no get well. Me no feex 'um. Me velly seek here," and he placed his hand over his heart. "Me t'ink bah-bee die. White man, beeg, beeg Chief, heem come 'long. Heem see bah-bee. Heem do all sam dis," and he knelt upon the ground. "Heem savvey all sam Medicine Man. Heem mak Injun bah-bee well. Heem no tak monee. Heem good man. No, no, me no tak monee. Me all sam white man."
"You savvey white man?" the constable asked.
"Ah, ah."
Grey was about to question further when the Indian gave a sudden start, and pointed to the left. Following the direction of the finger the constable noticed a man astride a cayuse on the high bank of the river about two hundred yards away. Whether a white man or an Indian Grey could not tell, but he appeared to be watching them very closely. This incident, trifling as it seemed, aroused in Grey a feeling of apprehension. So intent had he been upon the child that he had almost forgotten his fears concerning the Hishu region and the characters he knew had their abode there. Perhaps this was one of them. Anyway it was as well to hurry forward out of that desolate place before night shut down.
Hour after hour they plodded steadily forward, their eyes and ears keenly sensitive to any sound or sight of the strange horseman. Once only did he reappear. They had paused for a brief rest in a valley, and to drink of a stream whose water ran icy cold from the mountains, when he had suddenly darted out from a hill above and peered down upon them. The Indian had laid his hand upon his rifle, and whispered, "Me feex 'um." But Grey shook his head, and the native had desisted. Although he felt that the rider was following them for some sinister purpose, it would not do to enter Hishu as blood-stained travellers. And, besides, there was the strict command instilled into every new recruit not to shoot first. "Get your man," was the brief stern order. "If you don't get him, it means three months' hard, and if you shoot him it is all the same, with perhaps dismissal tacked on." No, Grey was not going to run counter to such orders. Anyway, what good would it do? Perhaps after all this was a harmless horseman, watching them out of mere curiosity.
He thought of these things through that long afternoon. Would the trail never end? It seemed like a week since they had left the camp. The child slept much of the time in those tireless dusky arms. Occasionally he awoke with a cry of fright, and the annoying cough would sweep upon him. He was becoming weaker, Grey could see that, and his heart ached as he watched the limp, pathetic figure, and the face all too white. "What must be a mother's love?" he asked himself over and over again. "If this little lad I have known such a short time appeals to me so strongly, how must she feel who suffered for his sake, and watched over him for three years?" At such times his hands would grip hard the rifle, and a scowl would furrow his brow as he inwardly cursed the villains who had torn away this sweet, innocent child from his mother's tender keeping.
The sun was swinging low in the heavens as slowly and wearily they at length toiled up a steep incline and reached the brow of a high hill. Here the Indian paused, and pointed to the opposite side of the valley lying snugly below. Grey, following the direction of the outstretched arm beheld several log buildings, nestling among the trees on the farther hillside. To the left flowed the Hishu River, glimpses of which could be easily observed from their high vantage ground.
"Hishu," the Indian quietly remarked. "Ketch 'um bime by."
Grey's heart thrilled as he shaded his eyes and scanned the little settlement. And this was Hishu, the spot toward which his face had been turned for weary days. He smiled as he thought of the wild blood-curdling Indian tales he had heard. What of the savage Indians and the monsters of the mountains? How tame and commonplace everything seemed, and Hishu was only that straggling cluster of houses over there in the distance. It was simply a mining camp, and no doubt all of the rascals who had kidnapped the child had gone down in the Klikhausia Rapids. His heart was lighter than it had been for days, and he descended the hill with a new springing gait. He began to see the end of his venture, the quiet return to Big Glen, and the child safely restored to his mother.
The trail was becoming easier now, for numerous feet had worn it smooth. On both sides of the way signs of woodsmen's axes were visible in the many stumps dotting the land. Ere long the first house burst upon their view as they emerged from the forest. It was only a rude log cabin, but how good it looked to Grey after that long desolate trail. The building was standing by itself, no other cabin being visible. Of its isolation he thought nothing then, but only of the shelter and relief he might find for the child. The door was open, though no one was to be seen. With the customary freedom of the frontier he gave a loud rap, and entered, the Indian following with Donnie in his arms. The room was not large, but clean, while a few rude benches, a couch and one table adorned the place. In a far corner were several shelves on which stood a number of black bottles. All this Grey observed at a glance, for scarcely had they entered ere a curtain was drawn quickly aside, and a woman stood before them. Grey started back in amazement, and gave vent to an ejaculation of surprise. Men he had expected to find in Hishu, but not women. His astonishment was succeeded by a feeling of joy. How fortunate, he thought, that she is here, whoever she might be. She will be able to help the boy better than men.
The woman was neatly dressed, of medium height, and at the first glance fair to look upon, although her face was somewhat pale. Her eyes were what fascinated the constable. They were cold steel grey, piercing in their intensity. They were cruel eyes, devoid of the softening grace of pity. To them tears of sorrow or sympathy seemed unknown. A faint semblance of a smile flitted across her face as she observed Grey's unaffected stare. She took a step forward, and then,
"Who are you," she demanded, "and what did you bring that brat here for?"
If Grey was surprised before he was completely dumbfounded now. He did not expect this. Presently an idea flashed through his brain. He glanced again at the bottles, and from them to the woman's face, and then he understood.
A coarse laugh greeted his embarrassment. She had divined his thoughts, and it pleased her.
"Don't like the place, greeny, eh?" she sneered. "You needn't stay; there's the door. But I guess you'll soon get used to it. All the men here have except one d—fish, and I'll have Buckskin Dan yet."
At this Grey found his tongue. He knew now what kind of a character he had to deal with. Her rough talk and heartlessness nettled him.
"I don't want to stay here," he replied, "but you might do something for this sick child. He'll die, otherwise."
"Let him die, then," came the cruel response; "he'll be better off."
"And you won't care for him?" Grey questioned.
"Oh, I'll not turn the brat out. Throw it on the couch there. What's wrong with him anyway?"
Briefly Grey related the story of the wreck in the rapids, the rescue from the icy water, and the effect upon the child.
A sudden change passed over the woman's face as she listened to the tale.
"And you say the men were drowned?" she cried when Grey had finished.
"Yes."
"My God! What will Bill say?"
"Bill who?"
"Siwash Bill. Don't you know him?"
Grey was about to reply in the negative, when he suddenly started, and stood as if transfixed. The sound of someone singing had reached his ears. It was a woman's voice, full of unutterable pathos. It sounded nearer now, and he caught the refrain: