She would go back on the Warais, and Pauline would remain at the Portage,
a white woman with her white man. She would go back to the smoky fires
in the huddled lodges; to the venison stew and the snake dance; to the
feasts of the Medicine Men, and the long sleeps in the summer days, and
the winter's tales, and be at rest among her own people; and Pauline
would have revenge of the wife of the prancing Reeve, and perhaps the
people would forget who her mother was.
With these thoughts flying through her sluggish mind, she rose and moved
heavily from the room, with a parting look of encouragement at Alloway,
as though to say, a man that is bold is surest.
With her back to the man, Pauline watched her mother leave the room, saw
the look she gave Alloway. When the door was closed she turned and
looked Alloway in the eyes.
"How old are you?" she asked suddenly.
He stirred in his seat nervously. "Why, fifty, about," he answered with
confusion.
"Then you'll be wise not to go looking for anniversaries in blizzards,
when they're few at the best," she said with a gentle and dangerous
smile.
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