The Indian girl clapped her hands, which to any one familiar with these unemotional people indicated that she was hugely excited over the idea. Presently her face clouded over, however.
"How can?" she asked.
"Me give um you."
"Yes. I'll give you the finest set of beads ever strung together, but you have got to do something for me."
"What that?"
"Bring a pony round to the back of the tent to-night."
The girl shook her head positively. But Rob saw that mingled with her refusal was an admixture of keen regrets for the loss of the promised beads. She knitted her brow in deep thought for a few seconds, and then sprang up, radiant once more.
"All right, white boy. Me get you pony. Charley One-Eyed Horse him very sick. I get you his pony."
"All right, then, that's settled," said Rob cheerfully. "But how about you? Won't you get into trouble over it? I don't want that, you know."