Personally, I don't think he could have
made a better investment. I hope I shall have the pleasure of making
his acquaintance when I deliver you to him. Perhaps you may be a
neighbour of mine. Hope so."
At this juncture George Sea Otter, who had been an interested
listener to the conversation, essayed a grunt from the rear seat.
Instantly, to Shirley Sumner's vast surprise, her host grunted also;
whereupon George Sea Otter broke into a series of grunts and guttural
exclamations which evidently appeared quite intelligible to her host,
for he slowed down to five miles an hour and cocked one ear to the
rear; apparently he was profoundly interested in whatever information
his henchman had to impart. When George Sea Otter finished his
harangue, Bryce nodded and once more gave his attention to tossing
the miles behind him.
"What language was that?" Shirley Sumner inquired, consumed with
curiosity.
"Digger Indian," he replied. "George's mother was my nurse, and he
and I grew up together. So I can't very well help speaking the
language of the tribe."
They chattered volubly on many subjects for the first twenty miles;
then the road narrowed and commenced to climb steadily, and
thereafter Bryce gave all of his attention to the car, for a
deviation of a foot from the wheel-rut on the outside of the road
would have sent them hurtling over the grade into the deep-timbered
canons below.
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