"That's all right, Captain, but you can't tell what a mob o' these lahees will do. I've seen 'em make some crazy plays--I sure have; but I'll keep one ear lapped back for signs of war." XIII ELSIE PROMISES TO RETURN One beautiful May day Curtis came into the house with shining face. "Sis, our artists are coming back," he called to Jennie from the hall. "Are they? Oh, isn't that glorious!" she answered, running to meet him. "When are they to reach here? Whom did you hear from?" "Lawson. They can't come till some time in June, however." Jennie's face fell. "In June! I thought you meant they were coming now--right away--this week." "Lawson furthermore writes that he expects to bring a sculptor with him--a Mr. Parker. You remember those photographs he showed us of some statues of Indians? Well, this is the man who made the figures. His wife is coming as chaperon for Miss Brisbane." "She still needs a chaperon, does she?" "It would seem so. Besides, Mrs. Parker goes everywhere with her husband." "I hope she'll be as nice as Mrs. Wilcox." "I don't think Lawson would bring any crooked timber along--there must be something worth while in them." "Well, I am delighted, George. I confess I'm hungry for a message from the outside world; and during the school vacation we can get away once in a while to enjoy ourselves." The certainty of the return of the artistic colony changed Curtis's entire summer outlook. Work had dragged heavily upon him during February and March, and there were moments when his enthusiasm ebbed. It was a trying position. He began to understand how a man might start in his duties with the most commendable desire, even solemn resolution, to be ever kindly and patient and self-respecting, and end by cursing the redmen and himself most impartially. Misunderstandings are so easy where two races are forced into daily contact, without knowledge of each other's speech, and with only a partial comprehension of each other's outlook on the world. Some of the employes possessed a small vocabulary of common Tetong words, but they could neither explain nor reason about any act. They could only command. Curtis, by means of the sign language, which he had carried to marvellous clearness and swiftness, was able to make himself understood fairly well on most topics, but nevertheless found himself groping at times in the obscure caverns of their thinking. "Even after a man gets their thought he must comprehend the origin of their motives," he said to Wilson, his clerk. "Everything they do has meaning and sequence. They have developed, like ourselves, through countless generations of life under relatively stable conditions. These material conditions are now giving way, are vanishing, but the mental traits they formed will persist. Think of this when you are impatient with them."