The Indian shook his head forebodingly. "Dat better you keep way from dat lak'. She no good. James Dean he fool wit de tamahnawus. An' he hav' de strong medicine to mak' de tamahnawus do lak' he tell um. But de tamahnawus git James Dean. An' he git you—too."
Connie waited for two days after 'Merican Joe returned from the trap line before he even mentioned returning to The-Lake-of-the-Fox-That-Yells, as the Indians had renamed Hill Lake. Then, one evening he began to make up a pack for the trail.
"Were you goin'?" asked 'Merican Joe, eying the preparations with disapproval.
"It's about time we went down and looked at those fox traps, isn't it?" he asked casually. "And we ought to get some more out."
The Indian shook his head. "Me—I'm lak' dat better we let de tamahnawus hav' dem fox trap. We go on som' nudder lak' an' set mor'."
"Look here!" ripped out the boy, angrily, "if you're afraid to go you can stay here and snare rabbits like a squaw! I ain't afraid of your tamahnawus, and I'll go alone! And I'll stay till I find out what all this business is about—and then I'll come back and laugh at you, and at Pierre Bonnet Rouge, too. You're a couple of old women!" 'Merican Joe made no answer, and after puttering a bit he went to bed.
When Connie awakened, before daylight the following morning, the fire was burning brightly in the stove, and 'Merican Joe, dressed for the trail, was setting the breakfast table. Connie drew on his clothing and noticing that the pack he had thrown together the night before was missing, stepped to the door. A pack of double the size was lashed to the sled, and the boy turned to 'Merican Joe with a grin: "Decide to take a chance?" he asked.
The Indian set a plate of beans on the table and looked into the boy's eyes. "Me—I'm t'ink you too mooch skookum. Wan tam on Spur Mountain, I say you good man, an' I say 'Merican Joe, she good man, too. But she ain' so good man lak you. She scare for tamahnawus mor' as anyt'ing on de worl'. Rat now I'm so scare—me—dat de knees shivver, an' de hair com's from de head an' crawl up an' down de back an' de feet is col' lak de piece of ice, an' de belly is sick lak I ain' got nuttin' to eat in my life. But, I'm goin' 'long, an' I stan' rat beside you all de tam, an' w'en de tamahnawus git Connie Mo'gan, by Goss! she got to git 'Merican Joe, too!"
The boy stepped to the Indian's side and snatched his hand into both his own. "'Merican Joe," he cried, in a voice that was not quite steady, "you're a brick! You're the best doggone Injun that ever lived!"
"Me—I'm de scarest Injun ever liv'. I bet I lak she was nex' week, an' I was t'ousan' miles 'way from here."