"You're always figuring, Seth. You figure so much in your own quiet way that I sometimes fancy you haven't time to look at things which don't need calculating upon. I suppose living near Indians all your life makes you look very much ahead. I wonder--what you see there. You and Rube." "Guess you're side-tracked," Seth replied uneasily, and turning his attention to the blank paper before him. The girl's face took on a little smile. Her eyes shone again as she contemplated the dark head of the man who was now unconscious of her gaze. There was a tender look in them. The old madcap in her was taming. A something looked out of her eyes now which certainly would not have been there had the man chanced to look up. But he didn't. The whiteness of the paper seemed to absorb all his keenest interest. "I rather think you always fancy I'm side-tracked, Seth," the girl said at last. "You don't think I have a serious thought in my foolish head." Seth looked up now and smiled. "Guess you've always been a child to me," he said. "An' kiddies ain't bustin' with brain--generly. However, I don't reckon you're foolish. 'Cep' when you git around that Reservation," he added thoughtfully. There was a brief silence. The man avoided the violet eyes. He seemed afraid to look at them. Rosebud's presence somehow made things hard for him. Seth was a man whom long years of a life fraught with danger had taught that careful thought must be backed up by steady determination. There must be no wavering in any purpose. And this girl's presence made him rebel against that purpose he had in his mind now. "That has always been a trouble between us, hasn't it?" Rosebud said at last. And her quiet manner drew her companion's quick attention. "But it shan't be any more." The man looked up now; this many-sided girl could still astonish him. "You're quittin' the Reservation?" he said. "Yes,--except the sewing and Sunday classes at the Mission," Rosebud replied slowly. "But it's not on your account I'm doing it," she added hastily, with a gleam of the old mischief in her eyes. "It's because--Seth, why do the Indians hate you? Why does Little Black Fox hate you?" The man's inquiring eyes searched the bright earnest face looking down upon him. His only reply was a shake of the head. "I know," she went on. "It's on my account. You killed Little Black Fox's father to save me." "Not _to_ save you," Seth said. He was a stickler for facts. "_And_ saved you." "Oh, bother! Seth, you are stupid! It's on that account he hates you. And, Seth, if I promise not to go to the Reservation without some one, will you promise me not to go there without me? You see it's safer if there are two." Seth smiled at the naive simplicity of the suggestion. He did not detect the guile at first. But it dawned on him presently and he smiled more. She had said she was not going to visit the Reservation again. "Who put these crazy notions into your head, Rosebud?" he asked. "No one."