"Cut him across the face with her quirt in good style."
"What for?"
"Knockin' about her Indian Joe."
Joe was, as I came to learn, Ponka's son and Gwen's most devoted slave.
"Oh, she ain't no refrigerator."
"Yes," assented Bill. "She's a leetle swift."
Then, as if fearing he had been apologizing for her, he added, with the air of one settling the question: "But she's good stock! She suits me!"
The Duke helped me to another side of her character.
"She is a remarkable child," he said, one day. "Wild and shy as a coyote, but fearless, quite; and with a heart full of passions. Meredith, the Old Timer, you know, has kept her up there among the hills. She sees no one but himself and Ponka's Blackfeet relations, who treat her like a goddess and help to spoil her utterly. She knows their lingo and their ways—goes off with them for a week at a time."
"What! With the Blackfeet?"
"Ponka and Joe, of course, go along; but even without them she is as safe as if surrounded by
