That she
might not be wholly useless, when her lover was risking so much for
herself--Margery well understanding that her escape was the only
serious difficulty the bee-hunter apprehended--the girl turned all
her attention to Peter, in whose favor she felt that she had been
daily growing, and on whose pleasure so much must depend. Changing
her position a little, she now came closer to the chief than she had
hitherto done.
"Squaw like medicine-man?" asked Peter, with a significance of
expression that raised a blush in Margery's cheek.
"You mean to ask me if I like to SEE medicine-men perform," answered
Margery, with the readiness of her sex. "White women are always
curious, they say--how is it with the women of the red men?"
"Juss so--full of cur'osity. Squaw is squaw--no matter what color."
"I am sorry, Peter, you do not think better of squaws. Perhaps you
never had a squaw--no wife, or daughter?"
A gleam of powerful feeling shot athwart the dark countenance of the
Indian, resembling the glare of the electric fluid flashing on a
cloud at midnight; but it passed away as quickly as it appeared,
leaving in its stead the hard, condensed expression, which the
intensity of a purpose so long entertained and cultivated, had
imprinted there, as indelibly as if cut in stone.
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