Brown's flow of speech had left him talked out. He looked at the girl for a moment or two. She sat with the blanket around her and was studying him.
He finally asked:
"If I'm not infringin' on the idees you've been raised by I'd like to ask how you come to know American?"
She laughed.
"My father taught me English. I cannot remember when I did not speak it."
"Well! Your pop's Spanish, I take it."
"Yes. He learned English first when among Englishmen in the Napoleonic wars. He even commanded an English regiment for a time. After the battle of Talavera he led one of the divisions of the English army off the field, every officer above him having been cut down."
"My own pop fit in our war of 1812, about when that Napoleon was raisin' old Scat. My pop read all about it. Old gent's sixty-nine now. Born in New Hampshire was pop; mom in old Virginny. They met up in Missouria and married. Here I be, as I notified you before."
The girl did not make comment.
The fire died low. Brown was busy with his thoughts.