"Hello!" said Dode, timidly.
"Hello!" answered Lonely, tentatively.
"Wonderin' if you wanted to buy a coon?" the other boy began.
It was only one of the polite conventions of all such circles, and as such the other boy accepted and understood it.
"Tame, or fightin'?" he asked, casually.
"Fightin'! She 'll tackle anything from a tom-cat to a terrier! Lend her to you if you like!"
"I 'm afraid Pop 'd kick—he says he 's gain' to shoot my goat, if I don't get shut of it pretty soon."
By this time the ice had been broken, and Dode was plying Lonely with questions about the Show. These Lonely responded to magnanimously, though with some hauteur, for he began to see that things had changed for him, and that the taint of the Outlander was now wiped away. Yet Lonely could not look upon the owner of the raccoon as a representative chief; he was too youthful and small of stature to be accepted as Chamboro's hostage of concession. And there were old scores to be wiped out.
