“Don’t know.”

“Were you born here?”

“Don’t know.”

“Do you speak English?”

“No.”

“How old are you?”

Scar Head held up the fingers of his two hands; that was as nearly as he could guess. It didn’t matter, anyway.

The American chief hailed the medicine-man in the American language. Scar Head did not understand, but the words were: “Doctor, I don’t believe this is an Indian boy at all.”

Now the medicine-man (he was a young man, with brown hair on his face) reined back to ride upon Scar Head’s other side. He spoke, in French.