"You--friend--man--" In a rapid pantomime she struck her own arm, shrank from the blow, and threw a handful of leaves before her which she followed with her eye as they blew away. It was so vivid a sketch of the scene at the station at High Ridge when Selby struck down her outstretched hand and sent her baskets flying down the steps before her that Burton was thrilled by the skill of it. She wished to know if he were a friend of Selby's! For a moment he hesitated as to the policy of his answer; then, hoping the truth might prevail, he shook his head.
"No. Enemy. I follow on his trail. Some day scalp him." He felt that it was the proper place for pantomime on his part, but feared his ability. But she seemed to catch his meaning, and to his great relief she smiled in satisfaction.
"Washitonka friend," she said, pointing to the teepee. "Me no friend." She spat upon the ground. "Washitonka hide. Me show." And from the folds of her garment she suddenly brought out a small black object. It was an old-fashioned daguerreotype case. She opened it and held it toward Burton, but when he would have taken it into his own hand she drew back.
"See, no take," she said. Evidently she would not trust it out of her own possession.
He bent down to look. The case held, on one side, one of those curious early portraits which can only be seen when the light is right, and then come out with the startling distinctness of ghost-pictures. He turned her hand, which clutched the case tightly, until he caught the picture. Two young men--rather, a boy and a young man--looked out from behind the glass with the odd effect of an older fashion in hair and dress. The older of the two had the close-set eyes and narrow face that characterized Selby. It was Selby as he might have been twenty odd years ago,--a young man under twenty. The other might, he thought, be Ben Bussey. Of that he could not be sure, but he felt eagerly sure of Selby. He put his finger on the face and looked at Pahrunta.
"Selby?" he said. "The man that struck you?"
She shut the case, hastily hid it in her dress, and drew back among her concealing weeds. With the skill and noiselessness of an animal, she slunk in among them so that Burton himself was hardly able to locate her with his eye. There was no use in following her. If he had learned nothing else, he had learned that it is not possible to get from an Indian any information except what he wishes to give.
At that moment the whistle announced the approach of the train. Pahrunta had timed her confession so that he could not press her farther if he wanted to. He walked back to the platform, picked up his bag, and swung himself on. As they puffed past the weed-grown snow-break a moment later, he looked out, but no sign could he catch of the skulking figure he knew to be hidden there. But on the chance he tossed a gleaming coin backward toward it.
He found a quiet seat and gave himself up to analyzing the situation. Just what had he gained? A few disconnected facts. He pieced them together.
1. Old Ehimmeshunka did use in her basket work the peculiar knot he had identified in the woven lilac withes and in the knotted cord that bound Hadley.