Whitey soon gave up this form of effort, but Injun did not; possibly because Dorgan was in the other tent.  Friday night came, almost the last of the threshing.  Injun was absent on his eavesdropping quest, which so far had yielded nothing.  The men in Whitey’s tent were merrier than usual and, it must be admitted, more profane.  Then along came bad luck, in the person of Mrs. Gilbert Steele.

Mrs. Steele, you must know, was one of these motherly women who didn’t have anything to mother.  She was stout, round-faced, good-natured, and industrious; quite the opposite to her rather cold-blooded husband.  And this matter of her not having anything to mother was responsible for many things, as you shall learn.  Threshing-time was rush time with her.  She had few chances to think of anything except food, but this night she happened to have a little leisure, and had devoted it to consideration of Whitey.  “That poor boy out in that tent with all those rough men.  Why didn’t I think of him before?”

So Mrs. Steele had waddled out to the tent, and had arrived at a moment when there was a particularly strong outburst of profanity on the part of one of the rough men.  Though this was nipped in the bud as Mrs. Steele entered the tent, it caused her to reproach herself more bitterly than before.  She promptly took Whitey under her wing and told him that, crowded as the ranch house was, a place there should be found for him to sleep.

Whitey was greatly taken aback.  Of course he didn’t want to go.  He thought it made him look foolish in the eyes of the men, and it did.  He thought he might get out of it by explaining to Mrs. Steele, and he didn’t.  Perhaps that lady believed that Injun’s morals were swear-proof, or that he didn’t have any, for she didn’t mention him.  And to crown Whitey’s annoyance and chagrin, just as he was being led away to the darned old house Injun appeared.  And his face was lighted up—­for Injun’s.  And his eyes were shining with an unholy light.  For he had heard something!

There would have been another story to tell if Injun had acted differently.  But in the first place he was an Indian, and it was not in his blood to follow any fat white woman and rescue a boy from her clutches.  In the next place he was Injun; he had his own personality.  We Caucasians are apt to think that because the red and yellow people look pretty much alike, they all are alike.  Then when we come to know them, and find that they have as many differences as we have, we are rather surprised.  This may be conceited of us, but it is natural.  You probably know by now that Injun was a very independent person.  So he started off to take charge of affairs himself.

Meanwhile Whitey, feeling much like a fool, and possibly looking like one had there been light enough to see, was being led to the ranch house.  Arrived there and seated in the living-room, motherly Mrs. Steele apologized for not thinking of him before, and surrounding him with all the comforts of home, away from those vulgar men.  She was inclined to be proud of herself for having done so at this late hour.  Had she known what Whitey was thinking about the comforts of home and about her, she would not have been so proud.