There had been some misunderstanding, evidently--else the Indiana would never have manifested all this old-fashioned hostility.
The blanketed one showed himself a true diplomat.

"Call one of your white men, that there may be two and two," he gestured.

And he added, with the first words he had spoken since they met, "Hablo espanol ?" Well, if he spoke Spanish, thought Luck, why the deuce hadn't he done it at first?
But there is no fathoming the reticence of an Indian--and Luck, by a sudden impulse, hid his own knowledge of the language.

He stood up and turned toward the rocks, cupped his hands around his lips and called for the Native Son.

"And leave your rifle at home," he added as an afterthought and in the interests of peace.
The Indian turned to the rim-rock, held up the fragment of newspaper and called for one whom he called Juan.