“Quite likely,” admitted Cunningham, grinning. “He is quite glad, now, that he did not stick it in. I’ve spread the news that you were the one who proved their title to the valley, through twenty years’ occupation.”
Gray squirmed, then grinned.
“Might be useful,” he admitted, “to be popular here, in case there are any more fire-ceremonies going on.”
Cunningham’s face was serious for a moment.
“They were desperate, then,” he said. “They’d tried the Christian God and things still looked black. So they called upon some ancient deities that their forefathers had worshiped.... You mustn’t blame them, Gray.”
“I don’t.” Gray grinned. “But I do want to study their dialect, Cunningham.”
“Go ahead. It’s disappearing. We’re going in for politics, and boy scouts, and radios. We are a long way from a railroad, but our mine has built a road to it, and we have a motor-truck line that’s as good as a trolley any day. We’re highly civilized now, Gray.”
He opened the door into the house. And there was Maria to smile and give Gray her hand.
“Your husband,” said Gray, “has been boasting outrageously about what’s happened in the valley since you people came back.”
“He did it all,” said Maria proudly. “Nobody does anything, ever, without asking him.”