Torrance grinned foolishly. "Good—Lord!"
"Me spik English, too," murmured the squaw sweetly.
"Well, I'm bunco'ed!" Torrance rolled his eyes helplessly. "Take a hand, Tressa. Fancy meeting a family of redskins a thousand miles from nowhere and asking what make o' car they use!"
"Both spik English," said the Indian without a smile.
Torrance groaned. "Can you smile in English? This is getting on my nerves."
The Indians looked at each other, and as if one spring worked the mechanism their faces relaxed.
"Look at that, Adrian. That's prairie manners for you. I suppose if I asked him to jump off the trestle—"
The Indian shifted about and gravely regarded the long drop. Torrance clutched his arm and led toward the shack.
"Don't you do it, Chief. I ain't worth it."
He brought chairs from the sitting room.