others, thy had ties in common--a certain
mutuality--hence they came to know each other intimately.

Despite the great change in her environment, Ponatah remained in many
ways quite aboriginal. For instance, she was embarrassingly direct and
straightforward; she entirely lacked hypocrisy, and that which puzzled
or troubled her she boldly put into words. There came a time when Bill
discovered that Ponatah's eyes, when they looked at him, were more
than friendly, that most of the services she performed were aimed at
him.

Then one day she asked him to marry her.

There was nothing brazen or forward about the proposal; Ponatah merely
gave voice to her feelings in a simple, honest way that robbed her of
no dignity.

Bill laughed the proposal off. "I wouldn't marry the Queen of Sheby,"
said he.

"Why?"

"I ain't that kind of a bird, that's why."

"What kind of a bird are you?" Ponatah eyed him with grave curiosity.
"All men marry. I'm reading a great many books, and they're all about
love and marriage. I love you, and I'm pretty. Is it because I'm an
Indian--?"

"Hell! That wouldn't faze me, Kiddo. You skin the white dames around
this village. But you better cut out them books."

"I'd make you a good wife."

"Sure! You're aces. But I'd make a bum husband. I ain't got the breath
to blow out a candle." Mr. Hyde chuckled; the idea of marriage plainly
amused him. "How you know I ain't got a covey of wives?" he inquired.

"Oh, I know!" Ponatah was unsmiling. "I'm simple, but I can see
through people. I can tell the good ones and the bad ones. You're a
good man, Billy."

Now this praise was anything but agreeable to Mr. Hyde, for above all
things he abhorred so-called "good" people. Good people were suckers,
and he prided himself upon being a wise guy, with all that was meant
thereby.

"You lay off of me, Kid," he warned, darkly, "and you muffle them
wedding bells. You can't win nothing with that line of talk. If I
was fifty inches around the chest, liked to work, and was fond of
pas'ment'ries I'd prob'ly fall for you, but I ain't. I'm a good man,
all right--to leave alone. I'll be a brother to you, but that's my
limit." The subject was embarrassing, so he changed it. "Say! I been
thinking about that claim of yours. Didn't you get no paper from that
missionary?"

"No."

"Then his word's as good as yours."

"That's what the lawyer told me. I offered to give him half, but he
wouldn't touch the case."

"It w