“Come in and eat. It is all right,” said Cameron, offering his hand.
The Indian took the offered hand, laid it upon his heart, then for a full five seconds with his fierce black eye he searched Cameron's face. Satisfied, he motioned Cameron to enter and followed close on his heel. Never before had the lad been within four walls.
“Eat,” said Cameron when the ordered meal was placed before them. The lad was obviously ravenous and needed no further urging.
“How long since you left the reserve?” inquired Cameron.
The youth held up three fingers.
“Good going,” said Cameron, letting his eye run down the lines of the Indian's lithe figure.
“Smoke?” inquired Cameron when the meal was finished.
The lad's eye gleamed, but he shook his head.
“No pipe, eh?” said Cameron. “Come, we will mend that. Here, John,” he said to the Chinese waiter, “bring me a pipe. There,” said Cameron, passing the Indian the pipe after filling it, “smoke away.”
After another swift and searching look the lad took the pipe from Cameron's hand and with solemn gravity began to smoke. It was to him far more than a mere luxurious addendum to his meal. It was a solemn ceremonial sealing a compact of amity between them.