"Trail long. Red Fox come over prairie—bush—far—far——"
"Oh, you understand English?" exclaimed Alf, at the same time hoping that the Indian had not heard enough, or understood English well enough, to comprehend the recent criticisms as to his personal appearance.
The redskin nodded, though he craftily pretended that his knowledge of the foreign tongue was but scanty.
"Red Fox know little—very little. He speak—he no' understand all that ears tell him."
"And a jolly good job, too," commented Alf to his friend. "He's a hideous monster, but I shouldn't like to hurt his feelings by letting him know my opinion."
"I don't think that I would express it too freely, if I were you," said Bob, who had quickly resumed his everyday attire. "You never can tell how much fellows like that understand. I remember father telling me that Indians won't always admit that they know English well. They think that they can drive better bargains by pretending ignorance."
Then the boy turned to the native, and the fact that the man was alone and seemed to have no other possessions than his gun, hunting-knife, and pipe, raised doubts in the lad's mind as to the truth of the statement concerning the long journey. He knew and had heard sufficient about Indians to be aware that they seldom travelled any distance without their family and other belongings.
"You said that you had come a long trail?" he said, regarding the Indian with a sharp scrutiny.
Red Fox bowed assent, taking out his pipe to fill it with kini-ka-nik (tobacco and red willow bark mixed) as he spoke.
"Red Fox come far—with feet of deer. He have story for ear of pale-face brothers."