Don't you see?"
Lawanne saw; at least, he agreed that it was better so. And after they
had talked awhile, Hollister went home.
But he was scarcely in his own dooryard before he became aware that
while he might plan and arrange, so also could others; that his wife
was capable of action independent of him or his plans.
He glanced down the river and saw a long Siwash dugout sweep around
the curve of the Big Bend. It straightened away and bore up the long
stretch of swift water that ran by his house. Hollister could
distinguish three or four figures in it. He could see the dripping
paddles rise and fall in measured beat, the wet blades flashing in the
sun.
He gained the porch and turned his glasses on the canoe. He recognized
it as Chief Aleck's dugout from a rancherie near the mouth of the
river, a cedar craft with carved and brilliantly painted high-curving
ends. Four Siwash paddlers manned it. Amidships two women sat. One was
the elderly housekeeper who had been with them since their boy's
birth. The other was Doris, with the baby in her lap.
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