"That not my horse. My horse yonder."
Penny looked beyond the white horse, where the Indian pointed, and for the first time noticed that the trail had widened to a clearing fully thirty yards across. The open space was bordered by huge trees, and just beyond one of the largest of these she saw a paint horse.
"My horse there," the red man said. "This horse not mine. This horse name 'Silver.'"
"Silver," repeated the girl. "It certainly suits him." She thought her uncle would delight in owning such a beast.
"Is—is Silver for sale?" she asked.
The Indian's face showed a faint trace of a smile, as he shook his head slowly.
There was a somewhat awkward period of silence. The Indian stood as if waiting for Penny to make the next move. She had a fleeting thought that she should have been afraid. She knew that she was far from anyone who might help her. Yet she felt quite at ease. The Indian had been friendly so far, respectful too, and there was something magnetic about his personality.
"Me Tonto," the Indian finally said.
"Tonto—is that your name?"
The man nodded.