“Hahh!” replied the Indian, nodding.
“Me live here—work with Indian. White man no home—no people. He like Indian. He work—hunt meat for Indian.”
“Heap sheep,” replied Charley Jim, with a slow, expressive wave of his hand toward the mountain peaks.
“Charley Jim take white man’s money, send to freight post for gun, shells, clothes, flour, bacon—many things white man need?”
“Hahh!” The chief held up four fingers and pointed west, indicating what Adam gathered was four days’ ride to a freighting post.
“Charley Jim no tell white men about me.”
The Indian took the money with grave comprehension, and also shook the hand Adam offered.
* * * * *
The Indian boys who rode away to the freighting post on the river were two weeks in returning. To celebrate the return of the boys Adam suggested a feast and that he would bake the bread and cook the bacon. Oella took as by right the seat of honor next to Adam, and her habitual shyness did not inhibit a rather hearty appetite. On this occasion Adam finally got the wild little half-naked dusky children to come to him. They could not resist sweets.
A shining new rifle, a Winchester .44, was the cynosure of all eyes in that Indian encampment. When Adam took it out to practice, the whole family crowded around to watch, with the intense interest of primitive people who marveled at the white man’s weapon. Only the little children ran from the sharp reports of the rifle, and they soon lost their fear. Whenever Adam made a good shot it was Oella who showed pride where the others indicated only their wonder.