He made believe to be still unconscious.
Leaning forward, she laid two cool fingers on the pulse of his temple.
At her touch a keen discomfort filled him; pleasure or disgust?--he
could not have told.
By this time they had crossed the lake, and the swiftly passing banks
of the river were pressing close on them again. They turned
innumerable bends, shot little rapids, and loitered across still pools
as before. But the lyrical beauty of the summer's afternoon had
departed. Ralph hated it. By and by he lost the river banks, and
raising his head he saw that they had come out upon another lake.
After what seemed to him like an age consumed in crossing it, they
entered the river once more, and finally landed.
Not until they went ashore did Ralph have a glimpse of Nahnya's face.
He avoided looking at her as long as he could. In equal degrees he
longed and dreaded to find out what she was thinking. When finally his
angry, sullen eyes crept sidewise to her face--if she had looked sorry!
but no, it was the same old, hard, indifferent mask that fronted him.
His unreasonable anger welled up afresh.
"All right, my girl!" he thought. "I'll pay you out yet!"
It was one of the customary camping-places on the river. On each side
the fireplace a post had been driven in the earth and a bar laid
across, from which depended wooden hooks of various lengths to hang the
pails from. Some altruistic traveller had even made a rustic table and
a bench for those who were to follow him.
According to their customary routine, they first slung the three little
mosquito tents in a row, and then, making a fire, set about preparing
supper. There was little speech exchanged between them. It was widely
different from the jolly scene of the night before. The matter-of-fact
Charley accepted the silence as he had accepted the fun, without
question. Ralph could not tell from his expressionless face how much
he knew of what had happened. The struggle inside Ralph was keeping
his raw susceptibilities agitated as by the application of sandpaper.
He was spoiling for a quarrel.
Charley, climbing the bank with a load from the boat, spoke a word over
his shoulder to Ralph, who was beside the dugout: "_Pakwishegan_."
Ralph violently exploded. "If flour is wanted, carry it up yourself!"
he cried with an oath. "Who do you think you are, giving orders to a
white man!"
The boy looked at him astonished. Putting down his load, he came back
for the bag of flour. Ralph went up empty-handed. At the top of the
bank he met Nahnya, drawn by the sound of his angry voice.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
"Matter!" cried Ralph. "I suppose you and your brother think you can
put it all over me now, don't you? Well you've got another guess!"
It was no sooner out than he wondered what had made him say it. Her
astonished eyes reproached him. After a moment's blank regard she
seemed to understand, and her face changed.
"You foolish," she said swiftly. "I not tell Charley anything. He
only a boy, not much sense yet. I tell him you fall down and hit your
head on a stone."
It took him aback. He looked at her dumbly and miserably, but his evil
genius applied the lash once more. "I don't care what you tell him!"
he cried loudly. He strode to his tent, and lifting the netting,
rolled himself in his blankets, and made believe to go to sleep.
The voice was more insistent than ever. "You fool!" it said. "She's
generous! She's trying to spare you. You gave yourself away nicely.
You're in the wrong. You're acting like a spoiled child, and every
minute that passes without your owning up makes it worse!"
Whereat the other party was obliged to shout louder than ever: "I don't
care! Ignorant, senseless redskins! What a fool I was to put myself
in their hands! I'll make them smart for this!"
He had no supper. By and by he did fall asleep. In the middle of the
night he awoke sore and hungry. Further sleep was out of the question.
Getting up, he replenished the dying fire. When the flames leaped up,
making the little place bright, to save himself he could not help
glancing in the direction of Nahnya's little shelter. It was empty.
A swift anxiety seized him. Under the next shelter Charley was
sleeping peacefully. Where could she have gone alone at that time of
night? Everything about her was so mysterious! Could any danger have
overtaken her without awaking him? Perhaps some of her people were
camped in the neighbourhood--a man, maybe! At this thought a
surprising pain transfixed Ralph's breast.
He thought of the boat, and went stumblingly down the bank to see if it
was there. At the bottom of the incline he almost fell over Nahnya.
She was lying in the grass with her face hidden in her arms.
Ralph was utterly confused by the discovery. For a moment he stood
staring down at her like a clown. "What does it mean?" he thought
dully. Her stillness began to frighten him.
"Nahnya!" he whispered sharply.
"Go back to your tent," she muttered.
The words came quick and breathless from her. Ralph put a hand on her
shoulder and felt it shake. At that something tight and painful in his
own breast snapped in two, and the warm feelings he had done his best
to keep out had their way. He dropped to his knees beside her.
"Nahnya, what is it?" he whispered in a voice clumsy and faltering with
feeling. "It's not because of me, is it? I'm not worth it. I acted
like a brute and a fool. I'm sorry! I've been sorry ever since, but I
couldn't get it out!"
She made no effort to control her weeping now. The sound was like
little knives hacking at his breast. He longed to take her up in his
arms, but a truer instinct warned him not to touch her now.
"Nahnya, don't, don't!" he implored. "You have nothing to feel badly
for. I forgot myself. I am ashamed. You make me feel like the lowest
worm that crawls."
Gradually her weeping stilled itself. She sat up at last and pressed
the back of her hand to her eyes. "I am a fool," she said, "crying
like a baby."
There was a deprecating, small, friendly note in her voice that Ralph
had never heard before. He had much ado to keep his hands off her.
"Why should you feel badly?" he persisted. "You have done nothing but
what was right."
"Oh, I think everything goes wrong," she said wistfully. "I think
there is a curse upon me that turns men into devils when they look at
me. Always wherever I go men act bad to me. What is the matter with
me, I think, that makes them bad? I do not know."
"It's not your fault if you are beautiful," he muttered, "and if men
have devils in them."
"I do not know," she repeated.
The storm of weeping had left her with a gentleness she had never shown
before. She was as friendly as a lonely child. Ralph was terrified of
breaking the spell. His tongue stumbled along in incoherent
self-reproaches.
"When I come to you at Fort Edward," Nahnya went on, "I think much; are
you the same as the other men. I watch you close. I think you have
different feelings, and I am glad. I want so much for you to be
different. And yesterday we have so much fun. You look at me straight
and laugh cleanly. I am sure it is all right. But to-day"--her voice
drooped--"to-day you are like all the others!"
"Nahnya, forgive me! I'm ashamed!" he muttered.
"To-night I am thinking what will I do," she continued. "We can't go
on together in the same canoe if the devil is roused in you. I feel so
bad. I have come so far to get you to cure my mot'er. I think it is
no use! Then I cry like a fool!"
"Nahnya, I swear I'll never give you cause again," said Ralph. "Try to
believe me! I swear I'll never lay a hand on you except in respect!"
She let him take her hand. He pressed it to his lips. At the act she
caught her breath oddly, and snatched the hand away. Poor Ralph
thought he had offended her again. There was a silence between them.
At length she said very low:
"Ralph, do you think I am a bad woman?"
Ralph almost grovelled at her feet. It was very sweet to her. She
listened to his desperate protestations with a hand at her breast, and
made no attempt to stay him. When she spoke again her voice was as
soft and as charged with feeling as a nightingale's. All she said was:
"It is getting light in the east. We must go to our beds."
V