Swiftwater put his arm around me and kissed me on the forehead.
“We’ll be over early for you for breakfast tomorrow,” said Swiftwater as they went down the stairs.
Holding the baby in my arms at the window, I watched Swiftwater and Bera go down the street, Bera turning now and again to wave her hand and throw a kiss to me, Swiftwater lifting his hat.
Now, what I am about to relate may seem almost incredible to any normal human mind and heart; and especially so to those thousands of Alaskans who knew Swiftwater in the early days to be jolly, though impractical, yet always generous, whole-souled, brave and honest.
An hour after Swiftwater and Bera had gone, there was a knock at my door. I opened it and there stood Phil Wilson--an old associate and friend of Swiftwater’s.
“Why, no,” said I. “They went over an hour ago.”
“Thank you,” said he, and lumbered heavily down the stairs.
The next morning I waited until 11 o’clock for Swiftwater and Bera to come for me to go to breakfast. I had slept little or none the night before and my nerves were worn down to the fine edge that comes just before a total collapse.
When it seemed as if I could not wait longer, there came a knock at the door.
When I opened the door there stood George Taylor, a friend of Swiftwater’s of some years’ standing.
“Mrs. Beebe, I came to tell you that Swiftwater and Bera left early this morning to go to Quartz Creek on horseback. I promised Swiftwater I would help you move to his cabin and get everything ready for their return on Saturday.”
“In Heaven’s name, what is Swiftwater trying to do--kill Bera?” I exclaimed. “That ride to Quartz Creek in her condition, through the mud and mire of that trail, will kill her.”
Taylor merely looked at me and did not answer.
“Are you telling me the truth?” I demanded.
Taylor walked away and I closed the door and went back to the baby.
“Baby,” said I, “I guess we’re left all alone for a while and you haven’t any mama but me.”
Although I afterward learned of the fact, it did me no good at that trying moment that Swiftwater had told Bera, before she would consent to leave me, that he had sent me $800 in currency by Wilson. Of course, Swiftwater did nothing of the kind, yet his story was such as to lead Bera to believe that I was well protected and comfortable.