"Exactly. Just what I wanted to hear you say. And the more simple natured and trusting they are, the more it devolves upon you to treat their brotherhood with respect and reverence. You are now brother to the Showut Poche-dakas; and you'll be a wiser man before you're older by many days. In this little village you have always a refuge, no matter what the world outside may do to you. Nothing that you could do against your own race can make you an utter outcast, for here are your brothers, always eager to shelter you. If you owned a cow and lost it, a word from you would send fifty mounted men scouring the hills till the cow had been found and restored to you. Will the people of your own race do that? If the forest was burning throughout the country, rest assured your property would be made safe before your brothers turned their efforts to protecting the homes of other white men. Is it trivial, my friend?" "No," said Oliver shortly. "You have been greatly honoured," she concluded. "You are the first white man on record who has been adopted by the Showut Poche-dakas without first marrying an Indian girl. And even then they must win out in the fire dance. If they fail, their brides must go away with them, ostracized from their people for ever." "How many white men have been honoured with membership?" he asked. "Very few. Old Dad Sloan was over and saw the dance. He always attends fiestas if some one will give him a ride. He said after the dance that he knew of only three white men before you who had won brotherhood, though he had seen a dozen or more try for it." "Did he mention any names?" "Yes," she said. "He mentioned Old Man Selden, for one." "Does he belong to the tribe?" cried Oliver. "No, he fell down in the fire dance. He had married an Indian woman, and after the dance he took his bride away with him. She died six months afterward--pining for her people, it was supposed." "And who else did he speak about?" "You remember the name of Dan Smeed, of course." "'Outlaw, highwayman, squawman,'" quoted Oliver, trying to imitate the old '49er's quavery tones. "Yes," she said. "He conquered the fire and was admitted to full brotherhood." "And got gems for his bridle _conchas_," Oliver added. Jessamy nodded. "And in some mysterious manner paved the way for you to become adopted thirty years later." He turned and looked her directly in the eyes. "Was Dan Smeed my father?" he asked abruptly. Her eyes did not evade his, but a slow flush mounted to her cheeks. "I think we may safely assume that that is the case," she told him softly. Oliver stared at the beaten ground under his feet. "Outlaw--highwayman--squawman!" he muttered. Quickly she rose and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't! Don't!" she pleaded sympathetically. "Don't think of that! Wait!" "Wait? Wait for what?" "Wait till the Showut Poche-dakas have taken you into full confidence. Wait for my Hummingbird to speak." Oliver said nothing.