“It doesn’t matter much which affects him most,” said Dick, calmly, “we are doing just what our parents have taught us to do. Besides, how can we tell whether this brave is an enemy or a friend?”
“They say an Indian never forgets an injury, or an act of kindness,” ventured Roger; “and, if that is true, we can count on one friend among the Dacotahs, for I’m sure he belongs to that tribe.”
“Yes, he is a Dacotah, but they all look alike to me, so I couldn’t say whether he was among those who captured us or not. He seems to be listening to what we are saying, and I really believe he half understands our talk. Perhaps he knows a little English, for there have been white trappers who have penetrated this far.”
“Suppose you try him, and see if he can understand, Dick?”
“I mean to do that,” was the reply, “because I’d like to put a spoke in the wheel of that revengeful Andrew Waller. He has told these foolish Indians we are the sons of the Great White Father at Washington, and that if we were held as prisoners a mighty ransom would be paid for our release. We must convince the reds that it is false, and that we are only ordinary white boys.”
This idea held some weight with Dick, and after completing his work in connection with the brave’s wounds he commenced the attempt to talk with him.
At first it looked as though there would be little chance of success; but after a little he succeeded in getting the painted brave to understand what he was trying to explain. This was done by means of single words, accompanied by much gesturing and pointing.
If the Indian had not already known about the boys, and what was said about their being the sons of the White Father he could never have understood matters at all. Gradually Dick began to believe he was hammering the facts into the head of the other. He saw a light as of comprehension dawning on his painted face.
“I do believe you’ve managed to pound it into his brain, Dick,” said Roger, who had been an earnest witness of all this. “He looks as if he knew what you wanted him to do. See, he even nods his head when you speak.”
Dick felt that he had reason to be proud of what he had done. To get an Indian, who could not talk English, beyond a few words, to understand that they were only ordinary, every-day boys instead of the important personages Andrew Waller had pictured, was a triumph indeed.