“Go,” she said, or rather signified without speaking.

“I will,” he said, rising with an air of decision.  “God grant I may never regret this.”

“I trust you never will.”

He kissed the infant, embraced his wife and then signified to the squaw to lead the way.

“Keep up a good heart,” he added, turning, as he moved away.

The wife smilingly nodded her head but said nothing.  It did not escape the notice of her husband that there were tears in her eyes, and he half resolved to remain with her after all, but the next moment he moved on.

The squaw took the well-beaten track, walking very rapidly and often looking back to see that she was followed.  Her strangeness of manner the missionary attributed to her excitement regarding her husband.  Several times she exhibited hesitation, and once or twice muttered something that was unintelligible to him.

When they were about half-way to the village, she paused.

“Well, At-to-uck, what is the matter now?”

“Mebbe dead.”

“Oh, I hope not,” he answered, cheerfully.  “Do you turn off here?”

She answered in the affirmative and asked him to lead the way.

“No; I am unacquainted, and you ought certainly to know where to find your dying husband better than I do.”

She took the duty of guide upon herself again, and advanced but a rod, when she abruptly paused.  “Hark! hear groan?  Me hear him.”

Harvey listened intently but heard nothing.  Knowing that the hearing of the Indians is marvelously acute, he believed the squaw had heard sounds of distress; but, instead of quickening her steps, she now moved more slowly than ever.

“Have you lost your way, At-to-uck?”

“No,” she answered, in a significant voice.

The suspicions of the missionary that had been slumbering were now fully roused.

“What do you mean then?”

The squaw turned full around and gave a leer which, if possible, made her face more hideous than ever.  Without thinking Harvey caught her by the arm and shook her sharply.

“Explain this, At-to-uck.  What is the meaning of this?”

“He-he-e-e-e! big fool.  The-au-o-too hunt—­no hurt!”

A sharp reproof arose to the missionary’s lips, but deeming it would be lost upon such a person, he merely turned his back upon her and walked away.  She called and taunted him, but he was the last man who could have been roused to anger by such means, and he walked, with his arms folded, slowly and deliberately away toward the path.

It had not occurred, as yet, to the mind of Richter that anything more than a simple annoyance to himself was contemplated by this proceeding; but, as he resumed his steps homeward, a suspicion flashed upon him which almost checked the beating of his heart.  “God save it being so!” was his mental prayer, as he hurried forward.  A moment later he was on a full run.