"Beans?" inquired Rob, puzzled. "Oh, in Boston, you mean?"
"No beans—beads," pouted the young squaw. "Ladies' beads. Round neck—savee?"
Rob nodded.
"Oh, yes, I savee, Susyjan. So you like beads, eh?"
"Plenty much," rejoined Susyjan, nodding her smooth black head vigorously and showing her white, even teeth in two smiling rows.
A bold idea came into Rob's head. Perhaps out of this young squaw's vanity he might contrive a means to escape. But he would have to go to work gradually, or she might betray him, and that would result, as he knew, in closer captivity than ever for himself.
"What have they got me here for, Susyjan,—you know?" he asked.
"Um-hum. Big Chief Spotted Snake him say bimeby get plenty much money for you. Have big dance."
"Oh, that's the game, is it?" mused Rob. "Holding me for ransom. In that case, then, no wonder they are guarding me closely."
"Say, Susyjan," broke out Rob presently, "how you like to have lots of beads—fine ones, like white ladies wear?"