Simon lifted McCrae's right foot and placed his finger on a patch beneath the ball of the great toe. His features expanded in a knowing grin. Sandy McCrae's face suddenly became grave and his mouth grim. His voice, when he spoke, was hard and metallic. "Quit this sign business and spit it out of you," he ordered. "Mamook kumtuks! Tell me what you mean!"
S'pose some time me mamook sick, me feel all same oleman no more grub stop, no more smokin' stop mebbyso all rancher potlatch grub, potlatch smokin', send doctin', send med'cin'? You kumtuks?" He formulated this general scheme of pension and old-age insurance gravely.
Mamook poo! all same shoot. Bang! Whoosh! Up she go!" He waved his hand at the wreck. "You kumtuks that?" Simon nodded, understanding. "Mamook bang," said he; "mamook bust!" "Right," Farwell agreed. "Cultus man come at night. Dark. Black. No see um." He made a footprint in the earth, pointed at it, and then to Simon, and waved a hand at the horizon generally. "You find trail, follow, catch um.
It is impossible in this space to attempt a vocabulary. "Halo" is the general negative. Throughout I have endeavoured to supply the meaning by the context. "Simon," said he, "last night bad man come and mamook raise heap hell. Him blow up dam. You savvy 'dam, hey?" "Ah-ha!" Simon grunted proudly. "Me kumtuks. Me kumtuks hell. Me kumtuks dam. Dam good, dam bad; godam " "No, no!" rasped Farwell.
"This is the track of a right foot, made while he was standing reaching for the stirrup with the left. An Indian always gets on his horse from the wrong side, and puts his right foot in the stirrup first." "So he does," said Keeler. "So this fellow is a white man," Farwell concluded triumphantly. "We want a white man with a patched moccasin. You kumtuks, Simon? Injun mount so.