"You shouldn't blame Nesis for helping me out," Ambrose said earnestly—not that he expected to make any impression. "She's only a child. I made her do it."
Watusk spread out his palms blandly. "I not blame her," he said. "I not care not'ing only maybe you get drown in the rapids."
Ambrose studied the brown mask narrowly. Watusk gave nothing away.
Suddenly the Indian smiled.
"You t'ink I mad for cause she go wit' you?" he said. He laughed silently. "Wa! There are plenty women. When I let you out I give you Nesis."
This sounded a little too philanthropic.
"H-m!" said Ambrose.
"You lak little Nesis, hey?" inquired Watusk, leering.
Ambrose was warned by a crafty shadow in the other man's eye.
"Sure!" he said lightly. "Didn't she help me out of here?"
"You lak talk wit' her, I t'ink."