"You say she's bothered with the flies; why don't you take some
of this new stuff for a curtain? " and the trader held up a web
of mosquito gauze, the first Rolf had seen. That surely was a
good idea, and ten yards snipped off was a most interesting
addition to his pack. The amount was charged against him, and in
two hours more he was back at Van Trumper's.
On the cool side of the house, Quonab had built a little lodge,
using a sheet for cover. On a low bed of pine boughs lay the
child. Near the door was a smouldering fire of cedar, whose
aromatic fumes on the lazy wind reached every cranny of the lodge.
Sitting by the bed head, with a chicken wing to keep off the few
mosquitoes, was the Indian. The child's eyes were closed; she was
sleeping peacefully. Rolf crept gently forward, laid his hand on
hers, it was cool and moist. He went into the house with his
purchases; the mother greeted him with a happy look: Yes, Annette
was a little better; she had slept quietly ever since she was
taken outdoors. The mother could not understand. Why should the
Indian want to have her surrounded by pine boughs? why
cedar-smoke? and why that queer song? Yes, there it was again.
Pages:
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294