The evening meal was eaten in silence; then Quonab smoked for an
hour, both staring into the fire. A barred owl hooted and
laughed over their heads, causing the dog to jump up and bark at
the sound that ordinarily he would have heeded not at all. Then
silence was restored, and the red man's hidden train of thought
was in a flash revealed.
"Rolf, let's go to the North Woods!"
It was another astounding idea. Rolf had realized more and more
how much this valley meant to Quonab, who worshipped the memory
of his people.
"And leave all this?" he replied, making a sweep with his hand
toward the rock, the Indian trail, the site of bygone Petuquapen,
and the graves of the tribe.
For reply their eyes met, and from the Indian's deep chest came
the single word, "Ugh." One syllable, deep and descending, but
what a tale it told of the slowly engendered and strong-grown
partiality, of a struggle that had continued since the morning
when the selectman came with words of doom, and of friendship's
victory won.
Rolf realized this, and it gave him a momentary choking in his
throat, and, "I'm ready if you really mean it.
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