"When shall we start?"
Ermine waved his hand a few times at the sky and said "So many," but it failed to record on the Englishman's mind. He was using the sign language. The scout noted this, and added, "Ten suns from now I will go if I can."
"Very well; we will purchase ponies and other necessaries meanwhile, and will you aid me in the preparations, Mr. Ermine? How many ponies shall we require?"
"Two apiece—one to ride and the other to pack," came the answer to the question.
A great light dawned upon Harding's mind. To live a month with what one Indian pony could carry for bedding, clothes, cartridges, and food. His new friend failed, in his mind, to understand the requirements of an English gentleman on such quests.
"But, Mr. Ermine, how should I transport my heads back to this point with only one pack-animal?"
"Heads? heads? back here?" stumbled the light-horseman. "What heads?"
"Why, the heads of such game as I might be so fortunate as to kill."
"What do you want of their heads? We never take the heads. We give them to our little friends, the coyotes," queried Ermine.