"I'll be there fur one, Hastings. Have yer seen 'er?"
"Yes. As I rode into camp just now I passed someone I took to be Miss Bright."
"Pretty as a picter, ain't she?" said Jack Harding.
"Look, there she goes around the bend of the road towards Claytons'. There goes y'r teacher, Wathemah."
The Indian child bounded to the door.
"Me teacher, me teacher," he said over and over to himself, as he watched the receding figure.
"Your teacher, eh, sonny," said Kenneth Hastings smiling. He laid his hand on the child's head.
"Yes, me teacher," said the boy proudly.
His remark was overheard by Pete Tompkins.
"Lookee here, boys! There goes Wathemah's teacher. Now's y'r chance, my hearties. See the nat'ral cur'osity as is to start a religion shop, an' grind us fellers inter angels. Are my wings sproutin'?"