indifference was
assumed.

"I know not whether the pale-face preacher is with him," he continued.
"Those who told me about him could only say that a white man dressed
like the crows was travelling a short distance in advance of Whitewing,
but whether he was one of his party or not, they could not tell. Indeed
it is said that Whitewing has no party with him, that he travels alone.
If he does, he is more reckless than ever, seeing that his enemies the
Blackfeet are on the war-path just now; but you never know what a
half-mad redskin will do, and Whitewing is a queer customer."

Big Tim's style of speech was in accordance with his half-caste nature--
sometimes flowing in channels of slightly poetic imagery, like that of
his Indian mother; at other times dropping into the very matter-of-fact
style of his white sire.

"Leetil Tim vill be glad," said Softswan.

"Ay, daddy will be pleased. By the way, I wonder what keeps him out so
long? I half expected to find him here when I arrived. Indeed, I made
sure it was him that tumbled yon Blackfoot off the cliff so smartly.
You see, I didn't know you were such a plucky little woman, my soft one,
though I might have guessed it, seeing that you possess all the good
qualities under the sun; but a man hardly expects his squaw to be great
on the war-path, d'ye see?"

Softswan neither smiled nor looked pleased at the compliment intended in
these words.

"Me loves not to draw bloods," she said gravely, with a pensive look on
the ground.

"Don't let that disturb you, soft one," said her husband, with a quiet
laugh. "By the way he jumped after it I guess he has got no more harm
than if you'd gin him an overdose o' physic. But them reptiles bein' in
these parts makes me raither anxious about daddy. Did he say where he
meant to hunt when he went off this morning?"

"Yes; Leetil Tim says hims go for hunt near Lipstock Hill."

"Just so; Lopstick Hill," returned Tim, correcting her with offhand
gravity.

"But me hears a shote an' a cry," said the girl, with a suddenly anxious
look.

"That was from one o' the redskins, whose thigh I barked for sendin' an
arrow raither close to my head," said the young man.

"But," continued his bride, with increasing anxiety, "the shote an' the
cry was long before you comes home. Pr'aps it bees Leetil Tim."

"Impossible," said Big Tim quickly; "father must have bin miles away at
that time, for Lopsuck Hill is good three hours' walk from he