You know the disposition of this woman." The latter, at this point, began to give evidence of agitation, and to remark in her broken accents that The-au-o-too was dying and would be dead before they could reach him.

The missionary, in sore perplexity, looked at his wife.
"Go," she said, or rather signified without speaking.
"I will," he said, rising with an air of decision.

"God grant I may never regret this." "I trust you never will." He kissed the infant, embraced his wife and then signified to the squaw to lead the way.
"Keep up a good heart," he added, turning, as he moved away.
The wife smilingly nodded her head but said nothing.

It did not escape the notice of her husband that there were tears in her eyes, and he half resolved to remain with her after all, but the next moment he moved on.
The squaw took the well-beaten track, walking very rapidly and often looking back to see that she was followed.

Her strangeness of manner the missionary attributed to her excitement regarding her husband.
Several times she exhibited hesitation, and once or twice muttered something that was unintelligible to him.
When they were about half-way to the village, she paused.
"Well, At-to-uck, what is the matter now ?" "Mebbe dead." "Oh, I hope not," he answered, cheerfully.