On the third day he returned, with as casual an air as was possible, to Washitonka's teepee. Ehimmeshunka was sitting in the sunshine by the door. Washitonka was smoking some of Burton's tobacco, with an air of obliviousness, but when Burton placed himself beside Ehimmeshunka and began talking in a low voice to his interpreter, Welch, the old Indian promptly laid aside his dignity and came over to the little group by the door. Clearly he was not going to allow any conversation in his teepee without his knowledge.
There was little opportunity, however, for any asides, since Burton was under the necessity of talking through an interpreter. It was so cumbersome a method that he resolved to abandon his small attempt at diplomacy and strike boldly for what he wanted.
"Ask Washitonka if he knows Dr. Underwood. I am a friend of his," Burton said to Welch. He watched the faces of the Indians as this was translated, but he could see no glimmer of responsiveness in any face. Possibly it was merely because he did not understand the language of their unfamiliar faces any more than he did their unfamiliar tongue.
"Tell them I know Selby," he continued, while he watched Pahrunta. At the sound of the name she looked toward him with blank directness and Burton rejoiced. He had established communication! But when Welch repeated the question in Indian, it brought no response from any one. Washitonka merely grunted. Pahrunta turned away and spat upon the ground, but that might have had no significance.
"They don't seem to know him, either," said Welch.
"Ask the woman what she calls the man who struck her arm in the station when she spoke to him, and spilled her baskets."
But Pahrunta would not answer. She listened as though she heard nothing and turned away as though they had not spoken.
"Is it possible that she is still friendly to Selby?" he wondered. "Is she so much the savage that she admires him the more for striking her?"
Welch yawned, as though the game were losing its interest. "The train is about due," he said, rising. "I guess I'd better go and meet it, in case there is any mail."
He wandered off, leaving Burton to his own resources. Washitonka, apparently satisfied that he was not dangerous without an interpreter, lapsed back into dignified unconcern and tobacco smoke. He looked the Sphinx more than ever.