There were not many Indians about Silver Run; and those who were there were, as a rule, miserable creatures. Even this youth’s own family were hopeless, lazy and dirty in the extreme, prone to the use of “white man’s firewater” when they could get it.
But John Peep was more like what an Indian should be—or so Chet Havens thought. He was odd; but the white boy liked him, and when John put out his hand Chet accepted it and shook it warmly.
“You saved me. I will not forget. Thanks!” said the Indian lad.
“Don’t say anything more about it,” Chet said quickly. “You’d have done as much for me.”
John Peep looked at him curiously for a moment. Digby, getting impatient, blurted out:
“Well! are we going to stay here all day? We might as well get back to the Silent Sue.”
“You knew the shaft up there was caved in,” Chet said to the Indian. “How did it happen? I wanted dreadfully to go down. I believe we could reach my father and the other men entombed in the Silent Sue through the old tunnel from the Crayton shaft.”
“Can’t they be dug out through your shaft?” asked the Indian.
“I’m afraid it will take a week,” said Chet huskily.
“Oh, come on, Chet!” exclaimed Dig sympathetically. “Maybe some other way will turn up.”