“That’ll be near enough, ma’am,” he said, civilly enough. “This old crone has a crazy spell whenever a stranger comes nigh. She’s nutty. It ain’t safe to come nearer—is it, old Sit-in-the-Sun?”
The squaw grunted. Simultaneously, she looked up, and Miss Lee thought that she had never seen more piercing eyes.
“Is Sit-in-the-Sun her name?” asked the girl curiously.
“That’s the English of it. The Navajo word is a jawbreaker.”
“Doesn’t she understand English?”
“No more’n you do Choctaw, miss.”
A quick step crunched the gravel behind Melissy. She did not need to look around to know that here was Black MacQueen.
“What’s this—what’s this, Hank?” he demanded sharply.
“The young lady started to come up and speak to old Sit-in-the-Sun. I was just explaining to her 263 how crazy the old squaw is,” Jeff answered with a grin.
“Oh! Is that all?” MacQueen turned to Melissy.