“Twelve moons,” she answered.
“Good Lord! do you Indian chaps have twelve moons?” cried Cute. “Why, we white fellows only have one!”
“The Indians count time by moons,” explained Percy. “Their moons are the same as our months.”
“That’s for a ‘twelve month and a day,’ as I have heard the old song say. How moony, and how loony!”
CHAPTER XX.
ONEOTAH’S MEMORIES.
Percy Vere was too much accustomed to Cute’s nonsense to pay much heed to it. He continued his inquiries of Oneotah.
“And you were in the power of the Yakima tribe, you say, when he found you—had you been taken a captive by that tribe?”
She nodded assent.
“They took you away from the Nez Perces, but if I remember aright, your infancy was passed among the Yakimas.”
“So I told you.”