“May I not aid?”
“You could not if you would; you would not if you could.”
“Ask me, Lois.”
“No.” She shook her head. Then, slowly: “I do thank you for the wish, Mr. Loskiel. But the Siwanois himself refuses what I ask. And you would, also, did you know my wish.”
“What is your wish?”
She shook her head: “It is useless to voice it — useless.”
She gathered the scant fragments of her meal, wrapped them in a bit of silver birch-bark, unrolled her bundle, and placed them there. Then she drained the tin cup of its chilly water, and, still sitting there cross-legged on