l watch over the young squaw." The
woman smiled again. Seth thought he detected a sigh of relief. He
understood this woman as well as it is given to man to understand any
woman--even an Indian woman.

"This wolf won't bother about the gran'ma," said Seth, looking straight
into Wanaha's eyes. "He's after the young squaw."

"And he will have the young squaw soon."

Wanaha abruptly turned away and hurried round to the entrance of the
Mission. The sound of people moving within the building told her that the
Sunday-school was over. Her silent going suggested that she had no wish to
be seen talking in private to Seth.

Seth remained where he was. His delay may have been intentional, yet he
had the appearance of deep preoccupation. He quite understood that
Wanaha's presence during his story had been deliberate. She had left her
own class on some trifling excuse and come out to warn him, knowing that
he would be alone with his children. There was no smile on his face while
he stood thinking, only a pucker between his dark brows, and an odd biting
of his under-lip.

At last he shook himself as though he found the shade chilly, and, a
moment later, sauntered round to the front of the building in time to meet
the others coming out.

He joined the group which included Wanaha, and they talked a few minutes
with the Agent and Mr. Hargreaves. Then Mrs. Rankin and Rosebud moved off
to the two waiting buckboards, and Wanaha disappeared down a by-path
through the trees. Seth and Charlie Rankin followed their womenfolk.

Seth was the only silent member of the party, but this was hardly
noticeable, for he rarely had much to say for himself.

On the way home Rosebud at last found reason to grumble at his silence.
She had chattered away the whole time in her light-hearted, inconsequent
fashion, and at last asked him a question to which she required more than
a nod of the head in reply. And she had to ask it three times, a matter
which ruffled her patience.

"Why are you so grumpy with me, Seth?" she asked, with a little frown. She
always accused Seth of being "grumpy" when he was more than usually
silent.

"Eh?" The man turned from the contemplation of the horses' tails.

"I asked you three times if you saw the Agent talking to two of his
scouts--Jim Crow and Rainmaker--before service."

Seth flicked his whip over the backs of the horses.

"Sure," he said indifferently.

"Jim Crow is the head of his Indian police."

The gi