“No.”
“You will see. I understand you better now. I shall not tease you any more. Good-night, Martin.”
“Good-night, Clare.”
CHAPTER XI THE MYSTERY
Next morning, when they had been on the river for about three hours, they came upon their friend Etzooah, he of the famous hair, still hunting along shore in his canoe, but this time without the little boy. Stonor hailed him with pleasure; for of all the Kakisa Indians only this one had acted towards them like a man and a brother.
But the policeman was doomed to disappointment. When they overtook Etzooah they saw that the red man’s open, friendly look had changed. He turned a hard, wary eye on them, just like all the other Kakisas. Stonor guessed that he must have visited his people in the interim, and have been filled up with their nonsensical tales. Affecting to notice no change, Stonor said:
“We are going to spell here. Will you eat with us?”
No Indian was ever known to refuse a meal. Etzooah landed without a word, and sat apart waiting for it to be prepared. He made no offer to help, but merely sat watching them out of his inscrutable, beady eyes. Stonor, hoping to find him with better dispositions after he had filled up, let him alone.
Throughout the meal Etzooah said nothing except to answer Stonor’s questions in monosyllables. He denied having been up to Ahcunazie’s village. Stonor was struck by the fact that he made no inquiry respecting his friend Imbrie. Stonor himself did not like to bring up the subject of Imbrie in Clare’s hearing. Altogether baffled by the man’s changed air, he finally said:
“Mary, translate this just as I give it to you.—When the policeman come down the river he meet Etzooah. He is glad to see Etzooah. He say, here is a good man. Etzooah give the policeman good talk. They part friends. But when the policeman come back up the river Etzooah is changed. He is not glad to see the policeman. He gives him black looks. Why is that? Has anyone spoken evil of the policeman to Etzooah? He is ready to answer. He asks this in friendship.”