The honest Brock looked blank, then labored in his memory.
“Has the sorrel girl in Harney married you yet?” said Drake. Brock slapped his leg, and the horses jumped at his mirth. He was mostly grave-mannered, but when his boy superintendent joked, he rejoiced with the same pride that he took in all of Drake's excellences.
“The boys in this country will back you up,” said he, next day; and Drake inquired: “What news from the Malheur Agency?”
“Since the new Chinaman has been cooking for them,” said Brock, “they have been peaceful as a man could wish.”
“They'll approve of me, then,” Drake answered. “I'm feeding 'em hyas Christmas muck-a-muck.”
“And what may that be?” asked the schoolmaster.
“You no kumtux Chinook?” inquired Drake. “Travel with me and you'll learn all sorts of languages. It means just a big feed. All whiskey is barred,” he added to Brock.
“It's the only way,” said the foreman. “They've got those Pennsylvania men up there.”
Drake had not encountered these.
“The three brothers Drinker,” said Brock. “Full, Half-past Full, and Drunk are what they call them. Them's the names; they've brought them from Klamath and Rogue River.”