Silence settled down on them once more. It was 100 broken this time by De Launay, who spoke as impersonally as they.
“They had real cow hands hereaways, once.”
A late and sluggish fly buzzed in the silence.
“I reckon the sheep eat ’em outa range and they done moved down to Arizona.”
The gaunt Sucatash murmured sadly:
“Them pilgrims is sure smart on g’ography an’ history.”
“An’ sheep—especially,” said the one called Dave.
“Ca ne fait rien!” said De Launay, pronouncing it almost like “sinferien” as he had heard the linguists of the A. E. F. do. The two men slowly turned their heads and looked at him apparently aware of his existence for the first time.
Like MacGregor, they evidently saw something beneath his habiliments, though the small mustache puzzled them.
“You-all been to France?” asked Dave. De Launay did not answer direct.