property."
The unexpectedness of this attack, and the sudden revelation of the fact
of Pomfrey's illness in his flushed face and hollow voice apparently
frightened and confused the stranger. He stammered a surly excuse,
backed out of the doorway, and disappeared. An hour later Jim appeared,
crestfallen, remorseful, and extravagantly penitent. Pomfrey was too
weak for reproaches or inquiry, and he was thinking only of Olooya.
She did not return. His recovery in that keen air, aided, as he
sometimes thought, by the herbs she had given him, was almost as rapid
as his illness. The miners did not again intrude upon the lighthouse nor
trouble his seclusion. When he was able to sun himself on the sands, he
could see them in the distance at work on the beach. He reflected that
she would not come back while they were there, and was reconciled.
But one morning Jim appeared, awkward and embarrassed, leading another
Indian, whom he introduced as Olooya's brother. Pomfrey's suspicions
were aroused. Except that the stranger had something of the girl's
superiority of manner, there was no likeness whatever to his fair-haired
acquaintance. But a fury of indignation was added to his suspicions when
he learned the amazing purport of their visit. It was nothing less than
an offer from the alleged brother to SELL his sister to Pomfrey for
forty dollars and a jug of whiskey! Unfortunately, Pomfrey's temper once
more got the better of his judgment. With a scathing exposition of the
laws under which the Indian and white man equally lived, and the legal
punishment of kidnaping, he swept what he believed was the impostor from
his presence. He was scarcely alone again before he remembered that his
imprudence might affect the girl's future access to him, but it was too
late now.
Still he clung to the belief that he should see her when the prospectors
had departed, and he hailed with delight the breaking up of the camp
near the "sweat-house" and the disappearance of the schooner. It seemed
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