“Fine!” whispered Ambrose.

She pulled his head forward so that she could breathe her soft speech directly in his ear.

“My father and me not the same lak other people here.  We got white blood.  Men not talk with their girls moch.  My fat’er talk man talk with me.  Because he is got no boys, only me.  So I know many things.

“I think, women’s talk foolish.  Many tam my fat’er say to me, Angleys talk mak’ men strong.  He say to me, some day Watusk kill me for cause I spik the Angleys.

“So in the tam of falling leaves lak this, three years ago, my fat’er he is go down the river to the big falls to meet the people from Big Buffalo Lake.

“My fat’er and ten men go.  Bam-by them come back.  My fat’er not in any dugout.  Them say my fat’er is hunt with Ahcunza one day.  My fat’er is fall in the river and go down the big falls.

“They say that.  But I know the truth.  Ahcunza is a friend of Watusk.  Watusk give him his vest with goldwork after.  My fat’er is dead.  I am lak wood then.  My mot’er sell me to Watusk.  I not care for not’ing.”

“Your mother, sell you!” murmured Ambrose.

“My mot’er not lak me ver’ moch,” said Nesis simply.  “She mad for cause I got white blood.  She mad for cause my fat’er all tam talk with me.”

“Three years ago!” said Ambrose.  “You must have been a little girl then!”

“I fourteen year old then.  My mot’er got ‘not’er osban’ now.  Common man.  They gone with Buffalo Lake people.  I not care.  All tam I think of my fat’er.  He is one fine man.

“Las’ summer the priest come here.  Mak’ good talk, him.  Say if we good, bam-by we see the dead again.  What you think, is that true talk, Angleysman?”

Ambrose’s arm tightened around the wistful child.  “Honest truth!” he whispered.

She opened her simple heart fully to him.  Her soft speech tumbled out as if it had been dammed all these years, and only now released by a touch of kindness.

Ambrose was touched as deeply as a young man may be by a woman he does not love, yet he could not help glancing over her head at the square of sky obliquely revealed through the window.  It gradually darkened.

“The moon has gone down,” he said at last.

Nesis clung to him.  “Ah, you so glad to leave me!” she whimpered.

He gently released himself.  “Think of me a little,” he said.  “I must get a long start before daylight.”

She buried her face on her knees.  Her shoulders shook.

“Nesis!” he whispered appealingly.

She lifted her head and flung a hand across her eyes.  “No good cry,” she murmured.  “Come on!”

Nesis led the way out through the hole they had dug.  Job followed
Ambrose.  Outside, for greater safety, he took the dog in his arms.

The moon had sunk behind the hill across the river, but it was still dangerously bright.  Nesis took hold of Ambrose’s sleeve and pointed off to the right.  She whispered in his ear: