“I doubt if the Otoes would sell him. How long have you been with the Otoes, Peter?”
Little White Osage had been listening as hard as he could, trying to guess what these long speeches were about. That last question, to him, awakened an answer.
“Al-ways,” he uttered, slowly. “First Osage, then Oto.”
“Do you know where Kentucky is?”
Little White Osage shook his head.
“No.” But he pointed to the east. “There.”
“Where are your father and mother?”
“There,” and Little White Osage pointed to the sky.
“Do you know where St. Louis is?”