"Lucky devils!"
"Here, here!" she cried. "Don't talk that way. You're glad, aren't you?"
"I'm tickled half to death."
"Is it possible that you do not take this seriously, Mr. Drew?"
"Look here," he said: "why didn't you tell me more of what I might expect at this fool performance?"
"I was afraid you might look at the matter much as you're looking at it now," she answered. "I knew you'd go through with it, though, if you once got started. I knew it to be a terrible ordeal, but I was confident that you would win."
"I thank you, I'm sure. Win what, though? The reputation of being a half-baked simpleton?"
"Do you imagine that the white people who saw you are ridiculing you?"
"Aren't they?"
"Absolutely nothing of the sort! You're the hero of the hour. People about here always attend the fiestas, and you'll be surprised to note the seriousness and lack of levity that they show in regard to the rites and ceremonies of the Showut Poche-dakas. It's an inheritance from the old days, I suppose, when the few white men who were here found it decidedly to their advantage to be friendly with the Indians. They glory in your grit, and everybody is talking about you. You should have heard Old Man Selden. 'There's a regular man,' he loudly informed every one after the dance. And folks about here listen to what Old Man Selden says, for one reason or another."