"I must have her, must see her again; must,
must--"
"Margaret!"
"I must, I say!"
"You must not. They'll never find her there. She's safe unless we show
the way. Think--as you love her."
"But if anything should happen to us--She'll starve!"
"No. There are soldiers at Yankton, and they'll come--now; and Landor
knows."
"Oh, Sam, Sam!"
There was silence. No human being could give answer to that mother wail.
Again time passed; seconds that seemed minutes, minutes that were a hell
of suspense. Below the horizon of prairie the sun sank from sight. In
the hot air a bank of cumulus clouds glowed red as from a distant
conflagration. For and eternity previous it seemed to the silent
watchers there had been no move; now again at last the grass stirred; a
corn plant rustled where there was no breeze; out into the small open
plat surrounding the house sprang a frightened rabbit, scurried across
the clearing, headed for the protecting grass, halted at the edge
irresolute--scurried back again at something it saw.
"You had best go in, Margaret." The man's voice was strained, unnatural.
"They'll come very soon now. It's almost dark."
"And you?" Wonder of wonders, it was the woman's natural tone!
"I'll stay here. I can at least show them how a white man dies."
"Sam Rowland--my husband!"
"Margaret--my wife!" Regardless of watchful savage eyes, regardless of
everything, the man sprang to his feet.
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