“Why! Alfred!” she exclaimed in surprise. “I did not know that you carried a gun. I thought you were a man who never sported a weapon of any kind.”
“I—I thought we might need it,” he answered in embarrassment, drawing his coat in place. “Can never tell what might happen.”
“That is true! I had never thought of that! I came away so hurriedly that I brought only my little thirty-two in my handbag.”
“Let me see your gun!”
Cogewea handed Densmore her pistol. He examined it minutely and then put it in his own pocket. Cogewea laughed uneasily as she remonstrated:
“What do you mean? You are not a two-gun man, are you?”
“Now little girl,” he returned lightly, “you do not want to carry this thing! It might get you hurt.”
“I will bet that I can handle a gun far better than you can!”
“Don’t be too sure of that, my conceited young lady! I hope that I have not practiced target shooting all summer to no avail.”
“But Alfred! Please give me back my gun! I do not like to be without it, especially at this time. It is hard telling what may happen—and me with all the kale.”
“I will protect you!” he volunteered with a laugh. “And as head of the family, I am really supposed to handle the purse, am I not?”
Seemingly to meet his banter, Cogewea spoke nonchalantly, as the memory of the vanished horseman at the rock, flashed through her mind:
“Let me have both guns! I believe that I will be willing to trade you my handbag for the brace, even though they do not balance properly.”
“That would depend! How much did you bring?”
“Oh! I can buy several such toys and still be a long ways from bankruptcy. Is it a go?”
“Why do you so want both guns?”
“Jim—he might follow us! You can never tell!”
“No danger! He and the boys had gone out for stray horses when I left the ranch. My excuse was that I was going to Ronan and would not be back until late. They think that you are in Polson visiting friends. No body will dream that we have eloped and after we are married, what’s the difference who cries?”
“Well, I do hope that they may not know until it is too late. I’m afraid there would be hell to pay if Jim gets wise before we find a priest.”
“But why should you want both guns in case he did follow?” he questioned suspiciously. “You seem to think more of that savage than you do of me.”
“I want your gun simply to prevent likely trouble, should Jim trail us. He is too manly to ever shoot an unarmed man in any personal altercation. He may be a savage,” she continued spiritedly, “but he has a great big heart and that is a whole lot more than a goodly part of this highly civilized nation can boast. Too many of the so-called white men are afflicted with the worst of black-heart.”
Densmore flushed deeply at this thrust, but he rejoined with an attempt at pleasantry:
“You may still maintain your torture stake if you will, but I prefer holding on to my gun so long as there is such manifest danger of Injuns going on the warpath.”
Though ill at ease, Cogewea accepted the situation without further protest. So deeply engrossed had they been in discussion, that their mounts took advantage and stopped at the creek to allay their thirst. After crossing the stream, Densmore dismounted and drank. Leading his horse, he walked along the road for a short distance, to a stock trail breaking into the brush. Here he paused, proposing that they stop among the trees and let their horses rest for a time. Cogewea, still visioning the horsemen at the rock, demurred; but when her companion pointed out that the west bound train through Ravalli was not due until near seven o’clock and that it would be far better for them to remain in semi-seclusion until near that time than chance detection and possible detention at the station, she reluctantly acquiesced. Accordingly a grassy plot was sought just within the woods, where they drew the saddles and leaving the horses to graze at the end of the trailing ropes, sat down in the shade.
No definite plans had been agreed upon as to their future course, further than boarding the evening train west at Ravalli. Densmore was for going to San Francisco, while Cogewea named a nearer coast city as their immediate destination. Their ideas also differed as to time of return to the ranch. Cogewea was most anxious about the Stemteemä; to get back and make an early peace with her ancient parent was her deepest concern. Densmore, scoffing at this, interposed:
“The Stemteemä should be the least of our worries. Old age, like childhood, is susceptible of petting. I am afraid,” he added with a short laugh, “of being shot up by a disappointed foreman.”
“You have nothing to dread from Jim, once we are united,” assured the girl. “I know him to be a man and he will never place a stumble in our way.”
From this, the conversation drifted again to the topic of destination; disclosing the amount of money which Cogewea had brought. The Easterner expressed surprise that she had ventured to openly draw that amount and carry it alone from Polson. Cogewea assured him that all the cowpunchers were her friends and that there had been nothing to fear.
“Look!” she exclaimed, procuring her saddle blanket and removing the hairpin. “No body would have thought to look there for money, even had they staged a holdup.”
Densmore agreed that the hiding place would most likely have proven effective had
