A low growl from Mose broke into Joe's reflections. The dog had
raised his nose from his paws and sniffed suspiciously at the air.
The lad heard a slight rustling outside, and in another moment was
overjoyed at seeing Whispering Winds. She came swiftly, with a
lithe, graceful motion, and flying to him like a rush of wind, knelt
beside him. She kissed him and murmured words of endearment.
"Winds, where have you been?" he asked her, in the mixed English and
Indian dialect in which they conversed.
She told him the dog had led her to him two evenings before. He was
insensible. She had bathed and bandaged his wound, and remained with
him all that night. The next day, finding he was ill and delirious,
she decided to risk returning to the village. If any questions
arose, she could say he had left her. Then she would find a way to
get back to him, bringing healing herbs for his wound and a soothing
drink. As it turned out Girty had returned to the camp. He was
battered and bruised, and in a white heat of passion. Going at once
to Wingenund, the renegade openly accused Whispering Winds of aiding
her paleface lover to escape. Wingenund called his daughter before
him, and questioned her. She confessed all to her father.
"Why is the daughter of Wingenund a traitor to her race?" demanded
the chief.
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