Within a few feet of the squaw Dennis lifted the broad-brimmed hat
which I had bought for him directly we landed, and then advancing with a
winning smile, he asked the name of the flowers in very good Irish. The
squaw smiled too; she touched the flowers, and nodded and said something
in a soft, rapid and unknown tongue, which only made Dennis shake his
head and smile again, on which she spoke in a language still dark to
Alister and me, but not so to Dennis, who, to our amazement, replied in
the same, and a dialogue so spirited ensued, that they both seemed to be
talking at once. Alister's face was a study when Dennis put out his hand
towards the squaw's gold cross, and all but touched it, and then (both
chattering faster than ever) unbuttoned his throat and drew out his
crucifix to show her. His last act was to give her half the
tabby-striped _arums_ as they parted. Then he lifted the broad hat once
more and stood bareheaded, as the squaw came slowly down the wooden
causeway, not without one glance at us as she passed.
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