"No, I shall not do so always," he corroborated.
"I thought so." It was the tolerant approval of the prophet verified. "I'd be doing the same thing myself if I lived here long. Conformity's in the air. I felt it the moment I left the railroad and struck this—wilderness." Once again the unconscious shoulder shrug. "It's an atavism, this life. I've reverted a generation already. It's only a question of time till one would be back among the cave-dwellers. The thing's in the air, I say."
Again no comment. Again for any indication he gave, the Indian might not have heard.
Craig straightened, as one conscious that he was talking over his companion's head.
"When, if I may ask, is it to be, your marriage, I mean?" he returned. "While I am here?"
For an instant the other's eyes dropped until they were hid beneath the long lashes, then they returned to the distance as before.
"It will be soon. Three weeks from to-day."
"And at the ranch, I presume? My uncle will see to that, of course."
"Yes, it will be at the ranch."
"Good! I was wondering if anything would be doing here while I was here." Craig threw one leg over the pommel of his saddle and adjusted the knickerbockers comfortably. "By the way, how do you—your people—celebrate an event of this kind? I admit I'm a bit ignorant on the point."