"Ask 'em," grunted Rabbit Tail.
"Come along," said Roger and he strode over to the bench where the four Indians were fitting together the condenser pipe. They looked up and grinned affably at Roger.
"Rabbit Tail says you fellows may stay and help me finish this condenser, if you will. I know I can find the money to pay you for it. How about it?"
Jo, the spokesman, was a tall thin Indian, with a fine brow and intelligent eyes.
"No, I guess we'll go on back to camp, Mr. Moore," he said.
"But I thought you were interested in what I am trying to put over," exclaimed Roger.
"So we are. It's always interesting to learn what you whites are trying to do. You work so fearfully hard that we Indians are always curious to find out the idea back of the work. But as for helping you do the work—well, it's like this, you folks are always mighty interested in what we Indians do—making blankets or pottery or building hogans or making ceremonial altars. But I don't notice any of you really wanting to help us."
Roger cast a bewildered look about him but the other bronzed faces betokened full acquiescence with Jo's words.
"But why did you learn your trades so well?" he asked, finally.
"Interested in the idea—and it helps us compete with the whites, when necessary!"