silver-mounted, seal-covered flask and proffered it at arm's length.
"The cork unscrews to the left," he explained suggestively.

The dark figure of the guide made no motion of acceptance, did not even
glance around.

"Thanks, but I never drink," he declined.

"Not even to be sociable,"--the hand was still extended,--"not when I
ask you as--a friend?"

"I am a Sioux," simply. "I have found that liquor is not good for an
Indian."

For a second the white man hesitated; then with something akin to a
flush on his face, he returned the flask to his pocket untasted.

Again, without turning, the other observed the motion.

"Pardon me, but I did not mean to prevent you."

He spoke stiffly, almost diffidently, as on unused to speech with
strangers, unused to speech at all; but without a trace of embarrassment
or of affectation.

"I do not judge others. I merely know my people--and myself."

Again the stranger hesitated, and again his face betrayed him. He had
scratched an aborigine, and to his surprise was finding indications of a
man.