“In tent. You like basket? I make basket.”
“I like baskets. Oh, yes, you mean those pretty sweet-grass ones? I think they are lovely.”
“I make. You buy some?”
“If you will come to the camp I will. Maybe the others will, too. Do you know the camp, Miss Marshall’s camp?”
The Indian nodded.
“How far is it from here?”
“Three, four mile.”
“I must have come further out of my way than I thought, then. Which way do you go to get to the camp?”
“So.” The Indian indicated a path directly in the opposite direction from that which Jack considered to be the right one.
“I hope he isn’t making a mistake,” she said to herself. “I can’t tell by the sun, for it is overhead.”