III
"Where did you get this?" I heard myself asking, a strange voice sounding far down the throat.
"From an Indian," the mystic told me quietly. "He said it was bad medicine to him. He never had any luck in hunting after it fell to his share, so he was glad to give it to me."
"Where did he get it?"
"His tribe took it from some prisoners they killed."
I was running blindly around in a circle to find relief from the news he dealt me, when the absurdity of such news overtook me. I stood and laughed.
"Who were the prisoners?"
"I don't know," answered Johnny Appleseed.
"How do you know the Indians killed them?"