“Know Juan Delores?”
“Him don’t live round here.”
The answer was prompt enough—a trifle too prompt, Frank fancied.
“Doesn’t?” said Merry. “Where does he live?”
“Heap long way off there,” and the redskin pointed to the north.
“Are you sure?”
“Heap sure.”
“How far? How many miles?”
“Two time ten.”
“Twenty?”