"What queer old ideas your people have, Eena," he commented.
"But it's right, even if queer," smiled the Indian. "You see, maybe this
summer, Indian's right about that nose."
But Mrs. Clark and Con were now returning, Con having swallowed his tea,
and, looking refreshed by it, he settled himself in a porch chair,
stretched out his long legs and thoughtfully regarded the toes of his
patent leathers. Banty grinned openly, but The Eena gravely shook his
head, and, with the tip of his little finger, touched his own fine,
narrow nostril. Banty understood, but then he and The Eena always
understood each other, and now the boy knew that the old hunter meant to
remind him of the best qualities of his English cousin, and to overlook
the little oddities that after all did not carry weight when it came to
a boy's character.
"King Georgeman, you come with me to-morrow, me fish, or hunt?" asked
the Indian, his solemn eyes regarding Con kindly. Banty explained the
term "King Georgeman."
"Indeed I will, if you'll have me!" exclaimed Con, excitedly.
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