Just for a moment she hesitated. It suddenly occurred to her that her action might be construed into spying, and she was possessed by a sense of shame at the bare thought. She knew that she was not spying in the baser sense of the word. She had no doubts of Seth. Instinct told her why he was out. She had come to find out the facts, but not by spying. She meant to question him.

She felt her heart thumping in her chest as she stepped quickly across the verandah. She was nervous, and a strange feeling of shyness made her long to turn back before the man became aware of her presence. But she controlled the impulse, and, though feeling herself flush in the cool air of the night, walked bravely on.

She believed she was un.o.bserved. Her slippers gave out no sound, but as she came within a few yards of the still figure, the man's voice greeted her.

"Thought you was abed, Rosie."

The girl started at the sound. Seth had not moved, had not even turned his head. Then she answered.

"How did you know I was here?" she said quickly.

"Guess I heard General talkin' to you."

She was at his side now.

"But you never looked round?"

"Ef it was Rube, I'd have heard his feet. Ma ain't wanderin' around o'

nights. An' I guess your auntie ain't bustin' fer a moonlight ramble. It didn't need a heap o' figgerin'."

Rosebud had no answer ready. The argument was so simple.

A brief silence fell, while both looked out across the moonlit plains at the dark line of distant woods. There was a slight glow in the sky in two different directions. One was away over the Pine Ridge Reservation, the other was nearer at hand, but on the far side of the Rosebud Reservation.

The girl saw these things and they held her silent. Her breathing came quickly. There was a sensation of excitement running through her body. She knew these lights were what Seth was staring at.

The man stirred at last.

"Guess you'd best git back to bed, Rosie," he said. "I'm goin' to saddle up my plug. I'm goin' to ride some."

"Where are you going?" The girl's question came with a little nervous energy.

The man turned upon her gravely.

"I'm meetin' Parker to-night," he said briefly.

"What for?" The violet eyes held the other's with their steady gaze. The pretty, irregular face was set and determined.

Seth moved. Then he turned away to glance at the lurid reflection in the sky. Presently his eyes came back to her face.

"It's them," he said, indicating the reflected fires.

"And what are they?" Rosebud's voice was quietly commanding. The irresponsible girl had gone from the woman talking now.

"Sun-dances. They're doin' it at night to cover their tracks. The Injuns are gettin' wise."

"You mean?"

There was no avoiding the sharp, direct questioning.

"We're goin' to git it, and when it comes it'll be--sudden. Sudden an'

bad. It's both Reservations. All of 'em."

Rosebud was silent. Her wide open eyes were on the lights, but her thoughts were on other things,--so many other things, that her head whirled. At last she spoke again, in a tense, nervous manner.

"Tell me about it. Tell me all."

Seth shook his head.

"Ther' ain't a deal."

"Tell me."

"See you, Rosie, ef I go out o' here presently, will you jest close these gates an' fix 'em? An' will you be up to open 'em for me?"

"Yes. But tell me."

Seth gazed at the horizon again.

"As I said, ther' ain't much," he began presently. "This has been goin' on fer days. Ther's Injuns out most every night, an' they are lyin' this side o' the fort. They're all about it, an' them soldier-fellers ain't wise to it. What's more we da.r.s.en't to put 'em wise. They're li'ble to b.u.t.t right in, an' then ther' won't be any stoppin' them pesky redskins. Y' see ther's only a handful at the fort, an' the Injuns could eat 'em."

"Yes, you always said it was a mistake to bluff with soldiers so near the Reservation. I suppose the Indians resent their presence. Is that it?"

"Mebbe."

"There's another reason?"

"Can't rightly say."

Rosebud knew that the man was prevaricating.

She stood lost in thought for some moments. And as she thought a sudden light came to her. She drew closer to her companion and laid one hand on his arm.

"I think I see, Seth," she said, and then became silent.

The man moved, and his action was almost a rebuff. That touch had stirred him. The gentle pressure of her hand sent the blood coursing through his veins, and he restrained the hot, pa.s.sionate words that sprang to his lips only with a great effort. The girl accepted his movement as a rebuff and shrank away. But she spoke vehemently.

"If I'd only thought--oh, if I'd only thought! I should have known. All that has gone before should have told me. It is my coming back that has precipitated matters." Her voice had sunk to a low tone of humility and self-accusation. "And, Seth, now I understand why you were shot. It was Little Black Fox. And I, fool that I was, dared to show myself on the Reservation. And he saw me. I might have known, I might have known."

There was a piteous ring in her low tones. Seth stirred again, but she went on desperately.

"Yes, I see it all. A descent will be made upon us, upon this farm. You will be done to death for me. Ma and Pa, and auntie and--and you."

She paused, but went on again at once.

"Yes, and I see further now. I see what you have already grasped. They have these scouts out around the fort to watch. When it comes they mean to cut the soldiers off. There will be no help for us. Only--only this stockade. Oh, Seth, how can you forgive me! You and Pa have foreseen all this trouble. And you have prepared for it all you can. Is there no help?

Can I do nothing to atone for what I have done? You stand there without a word of blame for me. You never blame me--any of you. I wish I were dead!

Seth, why don't you kill me?"

But as the girl's hysterical outburst reached its culminating point, Seth regained perfect mastery of himself. He noted the rush of tears which followed her words with a pang of infinite pity, but he told himself that he dare not attempt to comfort her. Instead, his calm voice, with its wonderful power of rea.s.surance, fell upon the stillness of the night.