And it certainly WAS Georgie's hair." "Georgie's hair," Good Indian smilingly asserted, "doesn't interest me a little bit.

Maybe Hagar scalped Miss Georgie to get it.

If it had been goldy, I'd have taken it away from her if I had to annihilate the whole tribe, but seeing it wasn't YOUR hair--" Well, the argument as such was a poor one, to say the least, but it had the merit of satisfying Evadna as mere logic could not have done, and seemed to allay as well all the doubt that had been accumulating for days past in her mind.

But an hour spent in a hammock in the shadiest part of the grove could not wipe out all memory of the past few days, nor quiet the uneasiness which had come to be Good Indian's portion.
"I've got to go up on the hill again right after dinner, Squaw-with-sun-hair," he told her at last.

"I can't rest, somehow, as long as those gentlemen are camping down in the orchard.