The Indian woman composed herself and beckoning the boy over, she said: "You write good words. Tell me more."
Billy had a great deal to learn about Indians; he was beginning to realize that. Evidently Bah's mother was kindly disposed towards him but she had a queer way of laughing at everything, which was hard for Billy to understand.
Still, he thought, it was better to laugh at everything than to be cross and angry. Mrs. Fighting Bull was a jolly woman, that was all, and Billy moved up close to her and smiled up into her face.
"Gee, I'm glad you like it. I thought, when you laughed, you were making fun of me. You see, I never wrote anything before, and this story has just got to be good, because——"
And then he told Bah and her mother of his desire to win the contest and the prize attached to it.
"You like I tell you more?" asked the Indian woman.
"That's just what I'd like to have you do, if you would," answered the boy writer.
"Well, I tell you."
With no more ado, Mrs. Fighting Bull started talking as Billy sat and listened to her words.