"Breaking Rock!" she said in alarm, and got to her feet quickly.
Breaking Rock stood for a moment looking towards the lodge, then came
slowly forward to them. Never in all the four years had he approached
this lodge of Mitiahwe, who, the daughter of a chief, should have married
himself, the son of a chief! Slowly but with long slouching stride
Breaking Rock came nearer. The two women watched him without speaking.
Instinctively they knew that he brought news, that something had
happened; yet Mitiahwe felt at her belt for what no Indian girl would be
without; and this one was a gift from her man, on the anniversary of the
day she first came to his lodge.
Breaking Rock was at the door now, his beady eyes fixed on Mitiahwe's,
his figure jerked to its full height, which made him, even then, two
inches less than Long Hand. He spoke in a loud voice:
"The last boat this year goes down the river tomorrow. Long Hand, your
man, is going to his people. He will not come back. He has had enough
of the Blackfoot woman. You will see him no more." He waved a hand to
the sky. "The birds are going south. A hard winter is coming quick.
You will be alone. Breaking Rock is rich. He has five hundred horses.
Your man is going to his own people.
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