“Anyway,” the Indian said, “you should remember that my father gave you a charm that would prevent any harm coming to you.”
“That’s so!” said Chick. “Garry has been wearing it, all week.”
He stared at the chum he had spoken about.
Garry’s face was wreathed in a queer expression, half surprised, half eager.
“Golly-glory-gracious!” he exclaimed, “I—had forgotten.”
He had.
“Do you know?—” he turned to Don.
“What morning is this?” he inquired, with a grin.
“Saturday,” Chick responded for Don.
“Yes—and what was last night?”