“Because I have so much to do here, that I can not get away. I must conceal both of you in some other place, as my father is going to the spirit-land, and this lodge will be full of warriors.”
“What do you mean?” asked Wilder. “Is the old medicine-man so near dead? I had not known that he was sick.”
“He is not sick. He goes to the spirit-land when he wishes to go, and the warriors come and look at him while he is dead, and go away. Then he comes back from the spirit-land, and they visit him again, when he tells them what he has seen and what will happen to them.”
“What an imposture! Do you believe that he dies, Dove-eye?”
“He goes to the spirit-land. The warriors pinch him, and prick him, and are sure that he is dead.”
“Very well done for a red-skin! When will he take leave of us?”
“To-morrow night he will go to the spirit-land, and the next morning the warriors will come to look at him. After that day I will do what my sister has asked me to do.”
“And then, Miss Robinette,” said Wilder, “you will be obliged to marry yourself, or give up half your fortune.”
“I wish you would not speak of the matter so lightly,” replied Flora. “Of what use will it be to me, if I am always to remain here? How can I ever escape?”
“That is a question for the future. For my part, I can do nothing until I am able to walk. I hope that a way will open for all of us.”
Wilder looked meaningly at the Indian girl, who held down her head, and turned away.
The old medicine-man and the negro came in, at the request of Dove-eye, to remove Wilder to another place of concealment. There was another small cave, a short distance from that in front of which the lodge was built, to which the wounded man was carried, with the assistance of the girls. Dove-eye and Flora arranged a comfortable couch for him, and the medicine-man hung up before the entrance a dressed buffalo-skin, painted with strange devices, indicating that the place was sacred. Flora was told that she also must enter that cave when the warriors came from the village, and must remain there until the ceremonies were completed, but would be free, until that time, to go about as she had usually done.
The next morning Flora went early to the spring for water. The promise of Dove-eye, and the confident tone in which Fred Wilder spoke of the future, had given her hope, and her heart was light and cheerful for the first time in many weeks. She was singing as she descended the hill, so gayly that she did not hear her name pronounced in a low voice, and she started when the voice assumed a louder tone.