"—and Padre, Silas says——"
"Is that the dog-faced man?" asked Rain.
"More like a wolf," said Storm. "Him as is going to give me his gun, to make up for the way he sneaked."
"Give you his gun?" asked Rain, delighted.
"Yes; it's a good gun too, if I can get a flint for the lock. If it had a flint, of course he wouldn't give it me. Besides, there's no powder or ball."
"When will he give it?" asked Rain.
"When we gets to the mouth of your river."
"I'll pray to the Sun for a flint," said Rain.
"Padre"—the lad looked up at the fairy clergyman, who was frightfully busy working at his book—"Silas says that the Americans is going to run us English out of Oregon."
The padre abandoned his work in despair, swung round on his high stool, put up his spectacles, and looked over the top of the rims at these disturbing children who squatted very comfy on the corner, holding each other's hands. "Ah! that reminds me," he said. "Julia is engaged!"