"Jones big white chief--rope buffalo--tie up tight," continued
Emmett, making motions with his arm, as if he were whirling a
lasso.

"No big--heap small buffalo," said the Indian, holding his hand
level with his knee, and smiling broadly.

Jones, erect, rugged, brawny, stood in the full light of the
campfire. He had a dark, bronzed, inscrutable face; a stern mouth
and square jaw, keen eyes, half-closed from years of searching
the wide plains; and deep furrows wrinkling his cheeks. A strange
stillness enfolded his feature the tranquility earned from a long
life of adventure.

He held up both muscular hands to the Navajo, and spread out his
fingers.

"Rope buffalo--heap big buffalo--heap many--one sun."

The Indian straightened up, but kept his friendly smile.

"Me big chief," went on Jones, "me go far north--Land of Little
Sticks--Naza! Naza! rope musk-ox; rope White Manitou of Great
Slave Naza! Naza!"

"Naza!" replied the Navajo, pointing to the North Star; "no--no."

"Yes me big paleface--me come long way toward setting sun--go
cross Big Water--go Buckskin--Siwash--chase cougar."