Ralph frowned. "What do you want to make such a mystery of the trip
for?"
"I could lie to you if I want," she said, "and you not know."
Ralph's eyes were compelled to acknowledge the truth of this.
She paused with a little frown as if she had matter to convey that was
difficult to put into speech. "I not tell you all my things," she went
on slowly, "because I not know you ver' moch. By and by I tell you
what I can."
He looked at her in silent astonishment. What extraordinary delicacy
to find in a common Indian girl! As he gazed at her he abandoned that
conception of her for good and all. Whatever she might be it was not
common. The sullenness evoked by his laughter had passed, and her eyes
now met his squarely. Pride and wistfulness contended in their dark
depths. Whatever the colour of her skin they were the eyes of a woman
with a soul. What he read in them caused his heart to quicken its
beats. He made note of other beauties in passing: the lovely tempting
curve of her cheek, and how the colour came and went in it; her lips
fresh and crimson as rose-leaves.
"You have white blood," he said suddenly.
She shrugged.
"At least you can tell me your name," he said.
"Annie Crossfox," she said unhesitatingly. "White people say Annie; my
people, Nahnya."
A slight constraint fell upon them. They were silent. Ralph's
attitude toward the proposed journey was rapidly changing. To give him
credit, it was her eyes more than the gold that worked the change. How
could he have failed to be instantly struck by her beauty, he thought.
"You will come?" she murmured at length.
"When do you want to start?" he said.
"The steamboat go up to Gisborne after dinner to-morrow," she said.
"We walk across Gisborne portage six miles to Hat Lake. There my boat
is cached."
"What can I tell these people here?" said Ralph. "I can't just
disappear."
"Tell them you take the chance of the boat going up, to see a little of
the country. Everybody do that sometimes."
To "see the country" beyond was Ralph's dearest desire; to float down
its rivers, to climb its mountains, to camp under its stars. And to
travel seven days in a canoe with her! The Spirit of Youth rose in its
might and dealt old Prudence a finishing blow.
"All right!" cried Ralph. "I'll come!"
"Thank you," she said quietly.
Somewhat to his disappointment she showed no elation; indeed, no sooner
had she won him to go than she looked at him with a new question in her
eyes, with a painful and hesitating air.
"What's the matter?" said Ralph.
"You promise me you never tell where you been?" she said deprecatingly.
"You promise me when you come back you never tell anybody what you see
at my place?"
All Ralph's doubts came thronging back. "No!" he said frowning. "I
can't do that! I've got to be free to use my own judgment!"
There was a pause while their individualities contended in silence.
Ralph pushed the moosehide bag impatiently toward her. On this
occasion he was the stronger. She lowered her eyes.
"You still think there is something crooked?" she murmured.
"How do I know?" said Ralph harshly. "I don't know anything about you!"
She abruptly turned her back on him. Her hands lifted and dropped in
an odd, unconscious gesture. "I don' know w'at to do!" she whispered,
more to herself than to him. The husky sound was charged with pain.
"I come so far to get a doctor for my mot'er! But I cannot tell you!"
Ralph darted around the desk, and forced her to look at him. The dark
eyes were soft and large with unshed tears. Beauty in distress is
mighty to achieve. Moreover, Youth and Adventure and Romance were all
on her side. Ralph melted like snow before a fire.
"Here! it's all right!" he said gruffly. "I'll come. If it's straight
I promise not to tell!"
They shook hands on it, and Nahnya wiped her eyes apologetically.
They fell to discussing their arrangements.
"Get on the steamboat after dinner to-morrow," she said. "When you see
me make out you don' know me at all. At Gisborne I will tell you what
to do. Bring only blankets. I have a mosquito tent for you. I have
plenty grub and everything."
Ralph passed the little moosehide bag to her.
She quickly put her hands behind her. "You must take it," she said.
"I not want you work for nothing."
"I have taken it, see?" said Ralph, with a smile. "Now I pay it back
to you for taking me on a trip. I've only been waiting for the chance
to make a trip."
Once more their eyes met and contended, and again Ralph prevailed. She
took the bag of gold-dust and put it back within her dress.
When she went, and Ralph was left alone in his tiny office, he sat down
and endeavoured to put his thoughts in order. Straightway the soberer
half of him asserted its rights, and half persuaded him that what had
happened during the last hour was no more than a dream. It was too
fantastic, too preposterous, for a matter-of-fact person to credit for
a moment. That such a thing should happen to him, Ralph Cowdray, the
patientless medico! But he looked down at his desk, and there in the
cracks of the boards were lodged several shining yellow grains. The
matter-of-fact Ralph retired defeated, and the dreamy Ralph had full
sway.
"Gad! what eyes!" he thought. "She can't be more than twenty-one or
so, and she looks as if she had sounded all the depths of life!"
The sight of his watch finally reminded Ralph of dinner. Dinner
brought Dan to mind, and the thought of Dan recalled the subject of
their jocular argument which Nahnya had interrupted. Ralph fell back
in his chair amazed and dreamy.
"Romance!" he thought. "It did come in the door with her!"