“Sure it is right, and we have Scriptures as well as examples throughout all nature for such course. Do not hesitate! I love you and I want to protect you from the cold, uncharitable criticisms of this ungenerous world. I can not do this as we now are. Let’s go get married in any way that you wish.”
Cogewea’s words came hot and fervid, as she spoke without her old self-confidence and balance of mind:
“Perhaps there are times when one should possess the courage of self-assertion, but should it be to the exclusions of all admonitions? If so, then the quicker it is over the better! But I can ill endure the suspense—this haunting dread of my Stemteemä’s lasting disapproval. Oh! if I only knew! My Indian Spirit tells me that I am stepping wrong; that I am leaving the trail marked for me by inevitable decree! But my white blood calls to see the world—to do—to live—I—I—Oh; God of my ancestors!” she cried, with face lifted to the star-emblazoned Heaven. “Keep and comfort my dear Stemteemä should I linger away!”
Then turning to the anxious Easterner, she said simply:
“When shall we go?”
The wily plotter could have shouted his triumph. But suppressing his emotion, he affected to ponder on the problem involved in her interrogation. His reply was abstractedly:
“I must again tell you that I have only a few dollars immediately available and nothing adequate to our probable needs in view of any prolonged stay abroad. Under the circumstances, would you consider using your money as talked of the other day? I will return it with double the amount. You will,” he added in a low, ingratiating laugh, “have me under the domestic whip, in that you advanced the first family loan.”
He drew her to him and essayed to implant a kiss on the enticing lips, but she shrank away. Cogewea was again wavering. Perhaps she should resist this man? There still broke on her ear the snapping of the ill-omened rock at the sweat house; and the Stemteemä’s vision of the young doe was ever passing before her eyes. But not for long was she undecided. The blood of youth is warm and love is blindly confiding. Her answer came low and cautious, as if fearful of lurking danger.
“Yes! I have the money but it is in the bank. We can not go tonight! We will wait till tomorrow.”
Densmore secretly rejoiced that the friendly shadows were conducive to concealment of his exultation. His sordid dream of wealth was materializing. Of all the innumerable schemes which he had “put over”—this had been the “easiest.” A light marriage ceremony—acquirement of property title—accidental drowning while pleasure boating—fatal shooting accident while hunting—sudden heart failure—or safer still—the divorce court. In mad ecstacy he again unsuccessfully attempted to kiss. Oh! the ways of the Shoyahpee!
Glancing upward, Cogewea started visibly. The moon appeared to frown his disapproval. At the gate Densmore turned back while the girl hurried into the house. She felt amazement at her own action.
Down at the bunkhouse Jim, with his ever quick eye, marked the gleam of satisfaction which suffused the face of the tenderfoot as he came into the light of the solitary lamp which always burned until the last of the boys had turned in. Densmore was whistling a lively air, and the foreman, perhaps glad of the excuse, called sharply:
“Hey! there feller! stop that dam’ noise! Prowlin’ aroun’ half the night and comin’ home a whistlin’ ain’t no joke for tired boys who want their needed sleep. You savey them there words?”
Although in the midst of a stanza, the Easterner very discreetly ceased his warbling. He vouchsafed no reply, but disrobing, blew out the lamp and slid into the bunk. Gloatingly he lay, planning the trip for the next day with the breed girl. With supreme elation he contemplated the discomfiture of his haughty, copper-skinned rival; when he should learn of the success of the hated tenderfoot.
XXVIII
The Sentinel at the Rock
But she heeded not the warning,
Hiawatha
Heeded not those words of wisdom,
The streets of Polson bore an air of desertion, as Cogewea wended her way down the board walk in the early morn, nodding to an occasional chance acquaintance. Indecision and anxiety suffused her usually serene face. The girl felt at a loss and the question had come to her often:
“Why did you weaken to the importunities of the Shoyahpee against your better judgment?”
She seemed to accede to his overtures however ridiculous. The shame of the past evening when she agreed to loan him money for the proposed elopement trip, haunted her; but now it appeared too late to recede. She half wished that she had pointedly refused even though it broke her heart.
Thus meditating, Cogewea came opposite the bank as it opened its doors for the day. Crossing the street, she entered and stepping to the side desk, produced from an Indian beaded handbag a cheque book and wrote feverishly. Glancing cautiously around, she handed the slip of paper to the cashier at the cage window. The official scanned it, then read it the second time, before looking up in surprise to ask:
“A thousand dollars? Do you mean to draw all this—all this amount at one time?”
“Yes, that was my intention,” was the courteous reply. “Haven’t I enough on deposit to cover that cheque made payable to myself?”
“Oh, certainly, Miss McDonald; but it was my understanding that since you became of age and this money was placed to your credit by the Indian Agent, you were to draw only small amounts as you might need for immediate wants; and if you contemplated an investment, to advise with the bank. I know that I had such instructions from the Agent. There is that preferred stock of which I told you, still available at a slightly under-par value. Why not take a block and get in on the ground floor? We
