Bland's ignorance, his childlike helplessness away from a town tickled him.
"But that's all right, Bland.

We'll make 'em think we're gods or something.

They might make you a chief, Bland--if they don't take a notion to offer you up as a burnt offering to some other god that's got it in for yuh." Bland, testing the spark plugs hastily, one after the other, dropped the screwdriver.

"Aw, f'r cat's sake, lay off that stuff," he remonstrated nervously.

"Fat chance we got of godding over Injuns this close to a town! They're wise to white men.