The young squaw lingered, still gazing shyly at Miss Georgie.
"You no be 'fraid," she repeated softly. "I friend. I take
care. No trouble come Good Injun. I no let come. You no be
sad." She smiled wistfully, and was gone, as silently as moved
her shadow before her on the cinders.
Miss Georgie stood by the window with her fingernails making
little red half-moons in her palms, and watched the three squaws
pad out of sight on the narrow trail to their camp, with the
young squaw following after, until only a black head could be
seen bobbing over the brow of the hill. When even that was gone,
she turned from the window, and stood for a long minute with her
hands pressed tightly over her face. She was trying to think,
but instead she found herself listening intently to the
monotonous "Ah-h-CHUCK! ah-h-CHUCK!" of the steam pump down the
track, and to the spasmodic clicking of an order from the
dispatcher to the passenger train two stations to the west.
When the train was cleared and the wires idle, she went suddenly
to the table, laid her fingers purposefully upon the key, and
called up her chief.
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