At this point in the ride Little Tim began to recover from the surprise at his own stupidity which had for so long a period of time reduced him to silence. Riding up alongside of Whitewing, who was a little in advance of the party, still bearing his mother in his arms, he accosted him thus—

 

“I say, Whitewing, the longer I know you, the more of a puzzle you are to me. I thowt I’d got about at the bottom o’ all yer notions an’ ways by this time, but I find that I’m mistaken.”

 

As no question was asked, the red man deemed no reply needful, but the faintest symptom of a smile told the trapper that his remark was understood and appreciated.

 

“One thing that throws me off the scent,” continued Little Tim, “is the way you Injins have got o’ holdin’ yer tongues, so that a feller can’t make out what yer minds are after. Why don’t you speak? why ain’t you more commoonicative?”

 

“The children of the prairie think that wisdom lies in silence,” answered Whitewing gravely. “They leave it to their women and white brothers to chatter out all their minds.”

 

“Humph! The children o’ the prairie ain’t complimentary to their white brothers,” returned the trapper. “Mayhap yer right. Some of us do talk a leetle too much. It’s a way we’ve got o’ lettin’ off the steam. I’m afeard I’d bust sometimes if I didn’t let my feelin’s off through my mouth. But your silent ways are apt to lead fellers off on wrong tracks when there’s no need to. Didn’t I think, now, that you was after a young woman as ye meant to take for a squaw—and after all it turned out to be your mother!”

 

“My white brother sometimes makes mistakes,” quietly remarked the Indian.

 

“True; but your white brother wouldn’t have made the mistake if ye had told him who it was you were after when ye set off like a mad grizzly wi’ its pups in danger. Didn’t I go tearin’ after you neck and crop as if I was a boy o’ sixteen, in the belief that I was helpin’ ye in a love affair?”

 

“It was a love affair,” said the Indian quietly.

 

“True, but not the sort o’ thing that I thowt it was.”

 

“Would you have refused to help me if you had known better?” demanded Whitewing somewhat sharply.

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