"Will you explain to him that I want to find out about basket-weaving?" said Burton.
Welch evidently found it expedient to use Washitonka's own language for elaborate disquisitions of this sort. At the end of his exposition, Washitonka approached a step toward Burton and spoke with grave dignity.
"Bacco," was what he said.
Burton had come prepared for this emergency, and he produced a package of tobacco, artfully allowing it to be seen that there were other packages still in reserve.
"Come," said Washitonka, and stalked off toward the sunburnt teepees toward which the stray lounger at the station had gone.
By this time the little village was very much alive. Curiosity had brought the women and the children to the doors, where they stood shyly staring at the stranger. The men scorned to show open curiosity, but they all seemed to have business out of doors at that moment.
Washitonka's teepee was somewhat larger than the others, but there was nothing else about it to suggest the dignity of the chief. A pile of folded blankets and garments filled one corner, and cooking utensils were piled in another. But Burton had neither eyes nor thoughts for the accessories of the place. His attention was wholly given to the little old woman, broad-faced, brown-skinned, who sat by the doorway stringing beads. Her face was wrinkled like a piece of leather, and her coarse black hair was drawn down behind her ears and tied with gay cord. Her small black eyes followed Burton's motions as an animal's might. She was so complete and so unusual a picture that Burton would very gladly have made the trip just to see her.
Back of her in the teepee a woman was moving about her work,--the daughter, Pahrunta. Burton smiled at her and she smiled back in recognition.
Welch said something in their own tongue, and the younger woman waddled across the place and brought out a large basket holding the wares that she took to the town to sell. They were mostly trumpery things,--impossible birch-bark baskets and bead-worked match-holders and collar-boxes supposed to appeal to the taste of the tourist. But Burton saw, with thankfulness, that the large basket which held the things was woven with the same strong, peculiar twist that he had studied so carefully in the example he already owned.
"Ask them who made the large basket," he said, while he handled the gay trivialities with careless hand.