Wolf-Voice, who had not been indicated by the Major, now approached, his weird features lighted up with what was intended as pleasantry, but which instead was rather alarming.
"How! how me heap glad to see you." And to Miss Searles, "How! how you heap look good." After which they passed on.
"My, my, papa, did you ever see such beautiful hair as that man Ermine has?" said Katherine Searles. "It was a perfect dream."
"Yes, good crop that—'nough to stuff a mattress with; looks better to-day than when it's full of alkali dust," replied the Major.
"If the young man lost his hat, it would not be a calamity," observed the wife.
"And, papa, who was that dreadful Indian in the red blanket?"
"Oh, an old scoundrel named Wolf-Voice, but useful in his place. You must never feed him, Sarah, or he will descend on us like the plague of locusts. If he ever gets his teeth into one of our biscuits, I'll have to call out the squad to separate him from our mess-chest."
A strange thought flashed through John Ermine's head—something more like the stroke of an axe than a thought, and it had deprived him of the power of speech. Standing motionless and inert, he watched the girl until she was out of sight. Then he walked away from the turmoil, up along the river-bank.