Their hearers listened to them incredulously; but that the boys stood before them, a living evidence of the truth of their story, they would not have believed it.
“The Prophet let you go?” cried Glyndon.
“As you see,” answered Percy Vere.
“Scot free,” supplemented Cute; “and give us these gimcracks to protect us from all Indians generally. Nice, ain’t they?”
“Amulets!” ejaculated Glyndon, examining them curiously.
“Yes, with the Prophet’s tetotum on ’em.”
“Totem, you mean.”
“Yes, that’s it; and we are to tote’em wherever we go, to keep us from harm, according to old Smo’.”
“Well, this just beats me,” cried Glyndon, in a bewildered manner. “Six of their braves sent to grass, and they let you off. That ain’t according to Indian custom, and I can’t understand it.”
“Smoholler’s customs are different from ours,” observed Multuomah.