So Dick, who had hastily slung his gun to his back by means of the strap, held up both his hands, palms extended toward the squaw. That is the universal “peace sign,” recognized all over the world, even among the blacks of darkest Africa.
The wrinkled face of the squaw lost some of its grimness. She even seemed to smile a little, Dick thought; at any rate those fierce black eyes glistened in a friendly way as she nodded her head, and also held up both hands, letting the club fall to the ground.
“Friends—no hurt squaw, pappoose. How come here? Much bad job, panther. Shake hands. Me Dick!”
Although it might have seemed a little comical, the way the boy expressed himself, somehow, either through her knowledge of a little English, or because his gesture explained more than his few words did, the squaw seemed to understand him. She accepted his hand, and her black eyes snapped some more when he gave her fingers a friendly squeeze. Thus it is possible for two people to communicate, even when language fails.
“Me Karmeet, pappoose Dove Eyes. Prisoner so long in Shoshone village. Get away. Now on trail to lodges of Sioux. Much good paleface boy, shoot big cat. Ugh!”
And that was about the extent of her willingness to impart information. Whoever Karmeet might be, she evidently had long ago been taught that it was a woman’s place to hold her tongue when any of the other sex were around.
“We make camp, have meat to eat. Karmeet hungry; Dove Eyes want food. You much welcome join us. Stay all night in camp. In morning go to Sioux wigwam. How?”
Dick in this way was trying to make the squaw understand that they were about to halt for the night, and camp; also that she and her charge would be perfectly welcome to stay there, and share in the supper of the white boys.
Roger looked at the lined face to see whether she understood, and immediately realized that Dick knew how to go about it; for again she nodded her head, looked anxiously at the girl, and then muttered: