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"Him say, s'pose me catch cultus man me catch kwimnum dolla'." He exhibited the five-dollar bill, grinning once more. "Good! Me nanitch 'round me find trail. Boss tyee man see track of oleman moccasin." He pointed to Sandy's right foot. Young McCrae, his face black as the heart of a storm cloud, said nothing; but his eyes glinted dangerously. The Indian continued: "Me klatawa kimta on trail.
S'pose no Tom stop there, you nanitch around till you find him." "All right," said Simon. "Me nanitch, me find Tom." He considered a moment. "Halo grub stop me?" "I'll tell them to grubstake you here," Casey reassured him. "I'll pay you, too, of course." "You my tillikum," said Simon, with great dignity. "Tom my tillikum. Good! Me like you. How much you pay?"
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