But now that he had
actually met one, he felt his nerve ooze away.
However, the Indian was not aware of it, for Dick had a way of keeping
his feelings to himself, and he seldom showed whether he was surprised
or angry, although he never hesitated to let his friends know his
pleasure at their kindness, or gratitude for what they did for him.
He was looking at the Indian steadily, taking stock of him, and this is
what he saw: A broad, dirty face, in which burned two small, narrow
eyes. The cheek bones were prominent, and on each one was a spot of red
paint. The long, black, coarse hair was braided with pieces of otter
fur, and covered with an old cavalry cap, in which was stuck a crow's
wing feather, and around his neck hung a small, round pocket mirror
attached to a red string, by way of ornament.
The Indian wore a dirty cotton shirt and a pair of brown overalls, and
his feet were covered with green moccasins, decorated with small tubes
of tin, which jingled every time he took a step.
A belt and holster hung at his hip, and the handle of a Colt forty-four
was within easy reach.
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