He walked past Torres and went into the store, followed by Sleepy, who was grinning widely. Torres scowled heavily and looked at Garcia.
“Who are these men?” demanded Torres in Spanish.
“How should I know?” replied Garcia heavily. “I did not speak to the pig who grins only with his mouth.”
“They are strangers here,” mused Torres. “Last night they came on the stage.”
“This morning,” corrected Garcia. “They were talking with the sheriff, who is also a fool.”
“A fool is one who thinks that others do not have brains,” rebuked Torres. “A wise man overrates his opponent.”
This was a trifle beyond the mentality of Garcia, but he nodded violently, being of an agreeable disposition.
Hashknife and Sleepy went into the general store, where Lucy and Wanna were at a counter buying groceries. The girl glanced sharply at them, but the old squaw gazed upon them frankly. She realized that they had saved Wanna from an embarrassing situation, and she was grateful.
“Klahowya,” said Hashknife, smiling.
The old squaw opened her mouth twice before she replied with the same word. It was the universal greeting used by both whites and Indians where she had been raised, and it had been many years since she had heard it spoken.