“Klahowya,” said Hashknife, smiling.
The old squaw opened her mouth twice before she replied with the same word. It was the universal greeting used by both whites and Indians where she had been raised, and it had been many years since she had heard it spoken.
For several moments she seemed deep in thought Then—
“Mah-sie,” she said softly.
It had been difficult for her to remember “Thank you” in that language.
Hashknife smiled and shook his head. Wanna was staring at him now. She did not understand the language. Hashknife and Sleepy purchased some tobacco and left the store, going over to the stage stable, where their horses had been put up.
“You made a hit with the old squaw,” grinned Sleepy. “By golly, she sure grinned a heap. But, honest to grandma, didja ever see a prettier half-b
