One of the men was past middle age, the other a young fellow of
perhaps twenty.
The older woman said something to them and they began to jabber in so
high a tone of voice that Bob would have thought they were quarrelling
but for the fact that they laughed good-naturedly all the time and
came right over to where he lay to shake his hand. They had a good
deal to say to him, but he could not understand one word of their
language. After greeting him both men removed their outer coats and
hoods, and Bob could not but admire the graceful, muscular forms that
the buckskin undergarments displayed. Their hair was long, black and
straight and around their foreheads was tied a thong of buckskin to
keep it from falling over their faces.
They laughed at Bob's inability to understand them, and were much
amused when he tried to talk with them. Every effort was made to put
him at ease.
When the men were finally seated, the girl dipped out a cup of broth
and a dish of venison stew from the kettle which she handed to Bob;
then the others helped themselves from what remained. There was no
bread nor tea, and nothing to eat but the unflavoured meat.
It was quite dark now and the fire cast weird, uncanny shadows on the
dimly-lighted interior walls of the wigwam.
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