Wanaha served her husband with his food. Whatever might be toward, her duty by him came first. Nevil sat eating in what appeared to be a moody silence. The velvety eyes watched his every expression, and, in sympathy, the woman's face became troubled too. "Well, of course we must warn--some one," Nevil went on at last. "But the question is, who? If I go to the Agent, it'll raise trouble. Parker is bullheaded, and sure to upset Black Fox. Likely he'll stop his going hunting. If I warn old Rube Sampson it'll amount to the same thing. He'll go to the Agent. It must be either Seth or Rosebud." "Good, good," assented the Indian woman eagerly. "You say it to Seth." Nevil ate silently for some minutes, while the woman looked on from her seat beside the stove. Whatever was troubling the man it did not interfere with his appetite. He ate coarsely, but his Indian wife only saw that he was healthily hungry. "Yes, you're right again, my Wana," Nevil exclaimed, with apparent appreciation. "I'd prefer to tell Seth, but if I did he'd interfere in a manner that would be sure to rouse your brother's suspicions. And you know what he is. He'd suspect me or you. He'd throw caution to the devil, and then there'd be trouble. It's a delicate thing, but I can't stand by and see anything happen to your chum, my Wana." "No; I love the paleface girl," replied Wanaha, simply. "It comes to this," Nevil went on, with something like eagerness in his manner. "We must warn her, and trust to her sense. And mind, I think she's smart enough." "How?" The woman's dark eyes looked very directly into the man's. Nevil was smiling again. His anxiety and perplexity seemed suddenly to have vanished, now that he had come to his point; as though the detailing of his fears to her had been the real source of his trouble. "Why, I think it will be simple enough." The man left the table and came to the woman's side. He laid one hand caressingly on her black hair, and she responded with a smiling upward glance of devotion. "See, you must tell her I want to speak with her. I can't go to her. My presence at the farm is not welcome for one thing," he said bitterly, "and, for another, in this matter I must not be seen anywhere near her. I've considered this thing well. She mustn't come here either. No." He spoke reflectively, biting his long, fair moustache in that nervous way he so often betrayed. "You, my Wana, must see her openly at the farm. You must tell her that I shall be in the river woods just below the bridge, cutting wood at sundown on Monday. That's three days from now. She must come to me without being seen, and without letting any one know of her visit. The danger for me, for us, my Wana, is great, and so you must be extra careful for all our sakes--and so must she. Then I will tell her all, and advise her."