"Ah. I was guessing that way," he said. "And An-ina was helping boy, eh?"
"Oh, 'ess. An-ina help. An-ina always help boy. And boy help Uncle Steve."
Steve led the way down. An-ina was waiting with smiling patience.
"Setting out a line to the Sleepers' camp?" he said, as they reached the woman's side.
An-ina nodded and began to coil the ropes afresh.
"It much good," she said. "Bimeby it storm plenty. So. Each day An-ina mak headman hut. When him wake then white man officer go mak big talk. Storm, it not matter nothin'. No."
"Fine," Steve agreed warmly. "You're a good squaw, An-ina."
His approval had instant effect.
"Him good? An-ina glad," she observed contentedly.
An-ina moved on towards the forest bearing her burden of ropes, paying out the line as she went.