What did he shoot you for?"
"He said he had too many squaws, and wanted a white squaw."
"Couldn't he have sent you away without trying to kill you?"
"I wouldn't tell him something."
"Oh, that was the reason, eh?"
"Yes, he married me at the school for my secret, and when I wouldn't
tell him he began to hate me."
"Tell me about it. How long have you been married to him?"
"Five months."
"I thought you were rather young to be a wife. How old are you?"
"I am seventeen."
"Where is your home; where does your father live?"
"My father is in the Far North. I cannot go to him any more now. My man
has turned me out and tried to kill me, but yet I live. But there is
nothing for me now but to die."
"Indeed, you are not going to die. You are going to live with me until
you are well, then you can say what you are going to do."
"The white lady is too good to an Indian girl."
"No, that is only right. How do you feel now? Do you think you could
travel if I was to help you into my saddle?"
"I will do what my sister wishes," said the Indian girl simply, trying
to rise. But the effort was too much for her, and she sank back, the
blood spurting freshly from the wound.
"That won't do," said Stella, easing the girl back, and rolling up her
jacket and placing it under her head.
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