“Oh, there’s Big Wolf!” exclaimed McConnell. “I suppose he would know where he was.”
“I’ve a mind to ask him,” said Allan. In a moment he did gather courage to hurry over to where Big Wolf was standing, solemnly and deliberately folding a red blanket.
“Do you know where Mr. Twink is?” asked Allan, in a loud voice, as people always do when they talk to a foreigner or one whom they fear will not understand them.
Big Wolf turned and mutely pointed toward a distant group of men. Yes, Mr. Twink was there. “Thank you,” said Allan. Big Wolf went on folding the blanket.
When they got over to where Mr. Twink was, Allan caught his attention, and both boys stammered their thanks to him.
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Twink. “Glad to have given you a hand. Come and see us again sometime. Good-by!”
And they left him.
“It seems to me,” said McConnell, as they walked home in the early evening, “it seems to me that wonderfully interesting things happen to you when you have a camera!”
“I was just thinking the same thing myself,” said Allan, swinging his black box. “I don’t suppose we ever should have thought of going ‘behind the scenes’ as we did to-day if we hadn’t these cameras with us.”
“And we couldn’t have talked to the Indians,” McConnell added in a tone of profound satisfaction.