His discouragement over the Ballena reception caused him to travel
slowly, and it was nearly sunset when he drew near the Elcuanam village.
It had been a cool day, so he had kept all the clothes on (except the
extra stockings). The village was in an open place, near the upper end
of a wide valley, and he could see it and be seen from it for a good
distance. He could not think of a better plan of operations than the one
he had tried at Ballena, badly as it had worked there: namely, to
maneuver so as to make his first appearance when a number of the chief
men were together, and then get the name of Kla-quitch to their ears as
quickly as possible. That would arrest their attention, and further
particulars could follow.

When he came in sight of the rancher'a he stopped and sat down to bide
his time. Only a few women and children and an old man or two were
about: the braves were probably out hunting, or, perhaps, bravely
sleeping until the squaws should announce that supper was served. So he
waited, hidden behind a rise of ground. At last the men, to the number
of ten or a dozen, had congregated for the evening lounge and pow-wow.
Pio slipped into the shadow of one of the little houses whence he could
issue in full view of the conclave. He settled the nightcap on his head,
grasped the umbrella in one hand and the slippers and stockings in the
other, and at a lull in the conversation advanced. He had decided to
dispense with the "How d' ye do?" in order to play his best card at
once: so as he stepped into the light of the fire he merely uttered in a
loud tone the word "Kla-quitch," to catch their attention. He succeeded.
A dozen startled heads turned toward him, and as he spoke his talisman
again, and moved toward them, there came a hysterical howl from a dozen
most unmusical throats, and his audience, followed by the women,
children, and dogs of the village, all shrieking in chorus, vanished
into the night. It was a striking tribute to the memory and prowess of