Part 32 (1/2)
”Certainly.”
”May I talk to him privately? He understands English?”
She nodded. Then:
”I will tell Lost Wing that anything you have to say to him shall be a secret even from me. I--do not want to know it.”
She spoke to the Indian in Sioux then and drew away, her eyes on the tracings of a snowshoe. Houston, pointing with his head, gave the Indian his directions.
”A woman is sick in a cabin, two miles straight west from here. Get Ba'tiste Renaud and take him there. Turn away from the stream at a tall, dead lodgepole and go to the left. You will see the cabin. I would rather that you would not go in and that you know nothing about the woman. Tell Ba'tiste that her name must stay a secret until she herself is willing that it be otherwise. Do you understand?”
”A'ri.” The Indian went then toward his mistress, waiting her sanction to the mission. She looked at Barry Houston.
”Have you given him his directions?”
”Yes.”
”Then, Lost Wing, do as he has told you.”
The Sioux started on, soon to be engulfed in the swirling veil of the storm. Barry turned again to the girl.
”Just one more request: I can't carry the child up there--this way.
Will you help strap her to my pack?”
Silently she a.s.sisted him in the grim task of mercy. Then:
”Do you know the Pa.s.s?”
”I can find my way.”
”Do you know it?”
He shook his head. She tapped one glove against the other.
”It is impossible then. You--”
”I'll make it some way. Thank you--for helping me.”
He started on. But she called him back.
”It's dangerous--too dangerous,” and there was a note of pity in her voice. ”It's bad enough on foot when there's no snow--if you're not familiar with it. I--”
”Tell me the way. Perhaps I could find it. It's not for myself. I made a promise to the child's mother. I'm afraid she's dying.”
A new light came into the girl's eyes, a light of compa.s.sion, of utmost pity,--the pity that one can feel for some one who has transgressed, some one who faces the penalty, who feels the lash of the whip, yet does not cry out. Slowly she came toward Houston, then bent to tighten the fastenings of her snowshoes.
”I know the way,” came quietly. ”I have been over it--in summer and winter. I will show you.”
”You! Medaine! I--I--beg pardon.” The outburst had pa.s.sed his lips almost before he realized it. ”Miss Robinette, you don't know what you're saying. It's all a man could do to make that climb. I--”