"Let me show it to him," suggested Robert.
She was wiping her brushes and did not see the expression of dismay on the chief's face when he beheld his counterfeit presentment, but she saw him snatch the picture out of Robert's hand and heard his indistinct mutterings when he fled like a deer.
"Well, what do you think of that!" she gasped. "What was he saying, Uncle John?"
"I didn't catch it, Bee—did you, Rob?"
Forsyth had made a little progress in the language, but had understood only a word or two. "It was something about the 'Great Spirit,' I think, but I didn't get the connection."
"That's gone, anyhow," said the Doctor. "You meant it for him, didn't you?"
"Why, yes, eventually; but it wasn't done."
"It was done enough for him, evidently," observed Ronald; "he seems to prefer his pictures a little rare. Are you ready to make mine now?"
"Indeed, I'm not going to paint you. I'm going in to help Aunt Eleanor."