"Actually—literally—honest-to-goodnessly!"
"Good night!" cried Oliver. "I'll cleave to my kith and kin."
"And never learn the question that puzzled your idealistic father for thirty years? Nor whether the correct answer is Yes or No?"
"But, heavens, I don't put out a fire that way!"
"It's not so dreadful as it sounds," she consoled. "You join the tribe, and you all go marching and stamping about a big bonfire for hours and hours and hours, till the fire is conveniently low. Then the one who is to be admitted to brotherhood and a chosen member of the tribe—the champion fire-dancer, in short—jump on what is left of the fire and stamp it out. Of course there are objections to you from the view-point of the Showut Poche-dakas, and they must be overcome by a representative of them. If the fire proves too much for your bare feet the objections are too strong to be overcome, and you never will be an honourary Showut Poche-daka. But if the two of you conquer the fire with your bare feet the ceremony is over, and you're It. And when the other Indians see that you two Indians"—her eyes twinkled—"are getting the better of the fire, they'll jump in and help you."
"A very entertaining ceremony—for the grandstand," was Oliver's dry opinion.
"Of course the Indian's feet are tough as leather, and they have it on you there. Hence this liquid courtplaster. It's worth a trial. Honestly, I held my finger on the stove—oh, ever so long! A full second, I'd say."
Back went her glorious head, and her teeth flashed in the sunlight as, drunk with the wine of youth and health, she sent her rollicking laughter out over the hills and cañons.
"I'll be there watching and rooting for you," she assured him at last. "I can do so openly now—since you've won the heart of Adam Selden. What do you think? He told me to invite you over sometime! But all this doesn't fit in quite logically with the ivory-handled Colt I see on your hip today for the first time. Explain both, please."
"Well," he said, "Selden seemed ready to cut my throat till he examined Poche's bridle and saw the B on the back of a concha."