As the Indian was four or five inches taller than himself, the legs covered his feet. He laughed as he saw how they looked, and the Indian’s serious face relaxed a little from the same cause.
“Now I will dry your clothes,” he said.
He took a chair and, hanging the wet garments over the back, placed it very near the stove. Ernest hardly liked to lose so much time, but he knew that it would not be safe to wear the trousers in their soaked condition.
“You speak English very well,” he said, turning to the Indian.
“Yes; I have spent much time with white people,” was the answer.
“Do you support yourself by hunting?” went on Ernest.
“Yes, I am a hunter, but I go with rich white people from the cities and with Englishmen who want a guide.”
“And do they pay you well?” asked Ernest, not quite sure whether he was not showing too much curiosity.
“Yes, they pay me well. I have some money in the bank.”
Then Ernest remembered having seen the Indian one day at the bank. He was told at the time that his name was John Castro, and that he had several hundred dollars on deposit.