“I am Samurai,” he said.
“Don’t recollect ever hearin’ of ’em,” says Plunk. “I’ve heard of Sioux and Pawnee and Iroquois and such, but Cooper nor nobody I’ve read mentioned Samurai.”
“He m-means Japanese,” says Mark, disgusted-like.
I guessed that myself, and had been wondering if he was the son of one of the men Mark and I had seen on the road that morning. I was just going to ask him when I thought I’d better wait and let Mark do the talking.
“You’re a l-l-long ways from home,” says Mark.
“Yes,” says he, “a long way; a very long way.”
“Alone?” says Mark.
The boy frowned, then he looked sort of undecided and uncomfortable. Finally he made up his mind to answer. “Yes,” says he, “alone.”
“Did you come way from Japan alone?” Plunk wanted to know.
“There are two ways to deal with a question one does not want to answer,” says the boy. “One is to lie; the other is to keep silence. I do not lie.”