“Whut?”
“That's Latin. It means 'Hands of Christ,'” said Hale with reverence. “You see how the leaves are spread out—don't they look like hands?'
“Not much,” said June frankly. “What's Latin?”
“Oh, that's a dead language that some people used a long, long time ago.”
“What do folks use it nowadays fer? Why don't they just say 'Hands o' Christ'?”
“I don't know,” he said helplessly, “but maybe you'll study Latin some of these days.” June shook her head.
“Gettin' YOUR language is a big enough job fer me,” she said with such quaint seriousness that Hale could not laugh. She looked up suddenly. “You been a long time git—gettin' over here.”
“Yes, and now you want to send me home before sundown.”
“I'm afeer—I'm afraid for you. Have you got a gun?” Hale tapped his breast-pocket.
“Always. What are you afraid of?”