Etzooah still studied Stonor like a man searching for ulterior motives. Clearly he did not believe what he was being told. “Why you think that? The falls never tell.”
“His body didn’t go over the falls. It caught on a log-jam in the rapids.”
“I know that log-jam. How you know his body there?”
“I brought it ashore. Mary helped me.”
Etzooah smiled in a superior way.
Stonor, exasperated, turned to Mary. “Make it clear to him that I am telling the truth if it takes half-an-hour.” He turned away and filled his pipe.
Mary presumably found the means of convincing the doubter. Etzooah lost his mask. His mouth dropped open; he stared at Stonor with wild eyes; a yellowish tint crept into the ruddy copper of his skin. This agitation was wholly disproportionate to what Mary was telling him. Stonor wondered afresh. Etzooah stammered out a question.
Mary said in her impassive way: “Etzooah say how we know that was the White Medicine Man’s body?”
“Was there any other man there?” said Stonor.
When this was repeated to the Indian he clapped his hands to his head. “Non! Non!” he muttered.