"Let it ache! So does mine, but I can't lie abed and groan. I am compelled to look after the family's needs, sick or well."
Then, womanlike, though the poor little pappoose fretted pitifully in its Indian basket, his wife brought cold water and towels and bathed his throbbing forehead.
"I 'm better now," he said, as his temples cooled. " Will you forgive me for beating you last night, Wahnetta?"
She looked at him in astonishment. Never before, though he had often bestowed indignities upon her that he would not have inflicted upon a favorite dog or horse, had he addressed her thus, or shown any sign of repentance.
"If I had kept my promise, Wahnetta, as I should have done, I would have taken you as a bride to London or Montreal and replaced you in the world of civilization, in which you were educated by your fond, mistaken father. But I couldn't do it, because of my daily dread of. the hangman's rope. I do not wonder that you despise me. I did not realize that I had become that thing that every self-respecting man of the West abhors,—a * squawman'!"
"Don't you dare to say * squaw ' to me, Joseph Addicks! It is an epithet no white man uses except in contempt. When we were married I was your equal in education, your superior in personal appearance, and your match in ambition. I now see that I was far ahead of you in moral character, for I was never a fugitive from what the world calls justice. But why didn't you confide all this to me long ago?"
He laughed derisively. "I knew the treacherous Indian nature too well, woman; and I wouldn't trust you now if it were in your power to betray me; but there is nothing now to betray."
"And I am no longer afraid of you, Joseph Addicks."
"My name is not Addicks. My brother passed through
