Good Indian .........................................................................................................................................................1

B. M. Bower .............................................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER I. PEACEFUL HART RANCH ............................................................................................1

CHAPTER II. GOOD INDIAN ...............................................................................................................3

CHAPTER III. OLD WIVES TALES .....................................................................................................8

CHAPTER IV. THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL ........................................................................................16

CHAPTER V. "I DON'T CARE MUCH ABOUT GIRLS" ..................................................................19

CHAPTER VI. THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL PLAYS GHOST ............................................................24

CHAPTER VII. MISS GEORGIE HOWARD, OPERATOR ...............................................................29

CHAPTER VIII. THE AMIABLE ANGLER.......................................................................................35

CHAPTER IX. PEPPAJEE JIM "HEAP SABES"................................................................................37

CHAPTER X. MIDNIGHT PROWLERS .............................................................................................40

CHAPTER XI. "YOU CAN'T PLAY WITH ME" ................................................................................44

CHAPTER XII. "THEM DAMN SNAKE" ...........................................................................................49

CHAPTER XIII. CLOUDSIGN VERSUS CUPID .............................................................................53

CHAPTER XIV. THE CLAIMJUMPERS ..........................................................................................58

CHAPTER XV. SQUAWTALKFAROFF HEAP SMART...........................................................64

CHAPTER XVI. "DON'T GET EXCITED!" ........................................................................................71

CHAPTER XVII. A LITTLE TARGETPRACTICE..........................................................................78

CHAPTER XVIII. A SHOT FROM THE RIMROCK.......................................................................83

CHAPTER XIX. EVADNA GOES CALLING....................................................................................89

CHAPTER XX. MISS GEORGIE ALSO MAKES A CALL ...............................................................93

CHAPTER XXI. SOMEBODY SHOT SAUNDERS...........................................................................99

CHAPTER XXII. A BIT OF PAPER ..................................................................................................103

CHAPTER XXIII. THE MALICE OF A SQUAW .............................................................................108

CHAPTER XXIV. PEACEFUL RETURNS .......................................................................................112

CHAPTER XXV. "I'D JUST AS SOON HANG FOR NINE MEN AS FOR ONE".........................117

CHAPTER XXVI. "WHEN THE SUN GOES AWAY"....................................................................120

CHAPTER XXVII. LIFE ADJUSTS ITSELF AGAIN TO SOME THINGS....................................124

It was somewhere in the seventies when old Peaceful Hart woke to a realization that goldhunting and

lumbago do not take kindly to one another, and the fact that his pipe and dimeyed meditation appealed to

him more keenly than did his prospector's pick and shovel and pan seemed to imply that he was growing old.

He was a silent man, by occupation and by nature, so he said nothing about it; but, like the wild things of

prairie and wood, instinctively began preparing for the winter of his life. Where he had lately been washing

tentatively the sand along Snake River, he built a ranch. His prospector's tools he used in digging ditches to

irrigate his newmade meadows, and his mining days he lived over again only in halting recital to his sons

when they clamored for details of the old days when Indians were not mere untidy neighbors to be gossiped

They felt that fate had cheated themdid those five sons; for they had been born a few years too late for the

fun. Not one of them would ever have earned the title of "Peaceful," as had his father. Nature had played a

joke upon old Peaceful Hart; for he, the mildestmannered man who ever helped to tame the West when it

really needed taming, had somehow fathered five riotous young males to whom fight meant funand the

He used to suck at his old, straightstemmed pipe and regard them with a bewildered curiosity sometimes;

but he never tried to put his puzzlement into speech. The nearest he ever came to elucidation, perhaps, was

when he turned from them and let his paleblue eyes dwell speculatively upon the face of his wife, Phoebe.

The house stood cuddled against a rocky bluff so high it dwarfed the whole ranch to pygmy size when one

gazed down from the rim, and so steep that one wondered how the huge, gray bowlders managed to perch

upon its side instead of rolling down and crushing the buildings to dust and fragments. Strangers used to keep

a wary eye upon that bluff, as if they never felt quite safe from its menace. Coyotes skulked there, and

tarantulas and "bobcats" and snakes. Once an outlaw hid there for days, within sight and hearing of the house,

A great spring gurgled out from under a huge bowlder just behind the house, and over it Peaceful had built a

stone milk house, where Phoebe spent long hours in cool retirement on churning day, and where one went to

beg good things to eat and to drink. There was fruit cake always hidden away in stone jars, and cheese, and

Peaceful Hart must have had a streak of poetry somewhere hidden away in his silent soul. He built a pond

against the bluff; hollowed it out from the sand he had once washed for traces of gold, and let the big spring

fill it full and seek an outlet at the far end, where it slid away under a little stone bridge. He planted the pond

with rainbow trout, and on the margin a rampart of Lombardy poplars, which grew and grew until they

threatened to reach up and tear ragged holes in the drifting clouds. Their slender shadows lay, like gigantic

Behind them grew a small jungle of treescatalpa and locust among thema jungle which surrounded the

With the spring creek whispering through the grove and away to where it was defiled by trampling hoofs in

the corrals and pastures beyond, and with the roses which Phoebe Hart kept abloom until tho frosts came, and

the bees, and hummingbirds which somehow found their way across the parched sagebrush plains and

foregathered there, Peaceful Hart's ranch betrayed his secret longing for girls, as if he had unconsciously

It was an ideal place for hammocks and romancea place where dainty maidens might dream their way to

womanhood. And Peaceful Hart, when all was done, grew old watching five fullblooded boys clicking their

heels unromantically together as they roosted upon the porch, and threw cigarette stubs at the water lilies

while they wrangled amiably over the merits of their mounts; saw them drag their blankets out into the

broody dusk of the grove when the nights were hot, and heard their muffled swearing under their "tarps"

because of the mosquitoes which kept the night air twanging like a stricken harp string with their song.

They liked the place well enough. There were plenty of shady places to lie and smoke in when the mercury

went sizzling up its tiny tube. Sometimes, when there was a dance, they would choose the best of Phoebe's

roses to decorate their horses' bridles; and perhaps their hatbands, also. Peaceful would then suck harder than

ever at his pipe, and his faded blue eyes would wander pathetically about the little paradise of his making, as

A tight picket fence, built in three unswerving lines from the post planted solidly in a cairn of rocks against a

bowlder on the eastern rim of the pond, to the road which cut straight through the ranch, down that to the

farthest tree of the grove, then back to the bluff again, shut in that tribute to the sentimental side of Peaceful's

Once the gate swung shut upon the grove one blinked in the garish sunlight of the plains. There began the real

ranch world. There was the pile of sagebrush fuel, all twisted and gray, pungent as a bottle of spilled liniment,

where braided, blanketed bucks were sometimes prevailed upon to labor desultorily with an ax in hope of

being rewarded with fruit newgathered from the orchard or a place at Phoebe's long table in the great

There was the stone blacksmith shop, where the boys sweated over the nice adjustment of shoes upon the feet

of fighting, wildeyed horses, which afterward would furnish a spectacle of unseemly behavior under the

Farther away were the long stable, the corrals where bronchotaming was simply so much work to be

performed, hayfields, an orchard or two, then rocks and sand and sage which grayed the earth to the very

A glint of slithering green showed where the Snake hugged the bluff a mile away, and a brown trail,

ankledeep in dust, stretched straight out to the west, and then lost itself unexpectedly behind a sharp, jutting

By devious turnings and breathtaking climbs, the trail finally reached the top at the only point for miles,

Then began the desert, a great stretch of unlovely sage and lava rock and sand for mile upon mile, to where

the distant mountain ridges reached out and halted peremptorily the ugly sweep of it. The railroad gashed it

boldly, after the manner of the iron trail of modern industry; but the trails of the desert dwellers wound

through it diffidently, avoiding the rough crest of lava rock where they might, dodging the most aggressive

sagebrush and dipping tentatively into hollows, seeking always the easiest way to reach some remote

Of the men who followed those trails, not one of them but could have ridden straight to the Peaceful Hart

ranch in black darkness; and there were few, indeed, white men or Indians, who could have ridden there at

midnight and not been sure of blankets and a welcome to sweeten their sleep. Such was the Peaceful Hart

There is a sayingand if it is not purely Western, it is at least purely Americanthat the only good Indian is

a dead Indian. In the very teeth of that, and in spite of tho fact that he was neither very good, nor an

Indiannor in any sense "dead" men called Grant Imsen "Good Indian" to his face; and if he resented the

title, his resentment was never made manifestperhaps because he had grown up with the name, he rather

liked it when he was a little fellow, and with custom had come to take it as a matter of course.

Because his paternal ancestry went back, and back to no one knows where among the race of blue eyes and

fair skin, the Indians repudiated relationship with him, and called him white manthough they also spoke of

Because old Wolfbelly himself would grudgingly admit under pressure that the mother of Grant had been the

halfcaste daughter of Wolfbelly's sister, white men remembered the taint when they were angry, and called

him Injun. And because he stood thus between the two races of men, his exact social status a subject always

open to argument, not even the fact that he was looked upon by the Harts as one of the family, with his own

bed always ready for him in a corner of the big room set apart for the boys, and with a certain place at the

table which was called hisnot even his assured position there could keep him from sometimes feeling quite

Phoebe Hart had mothered him from the time when his father had sickened and died in her house, leaving

Grant there with twelve years behind him, in his hands a dirty canvas bag of gold coin so heavy he could

scarce lift it, which stood for the mining claim the old man had just sold, and the command to invest every

Old John Imsen was steeped in knowledge of the open; nothing of the great outdoors had ever slipped past

him and remained mysterious. Put when he sold his last claimothers he had which promised little and so

did not counthe had signed his name with an X. Another had written the word John before that X, and the

word Imsen after; above, a word which he explained was "his," and below the word "mark." John Imsen had

stared down suspiciously at the words, and he had not felt quite easy in his mind until the bag of gold coins

was actually in his keeping. Also, he had been ashamed of that X. It was a simple thing to make with a pen,

and yet he had only succeeded in making it look like two crooked sticks thrown down carelessly, one upon

the other. His face had gone darkly red with the shame of it, and he had stood scowling down at the paper.

"That boy uh mine's goin' to do better 'n that, by God!" he had sworn, and the words had sounded like a vow.

When, two months after that, he had facedincredulously, as is the way with strong menthe fact that for

him life was over, with nothing left to him save an hour or so of labored breath and a few muttered sentences,

he did not forget that vow. He called Phoebe close to the bed, placed the bag of gold in Grant's trembling

"Mis' Hart, he ain't gotanybodymy folksI lost track of 'em years ago. You see to itgit some learnin'

in his head. When a man knows booksit'slike bein' heeledgood gunplenty uh ca't'idges in a

fight. When I got that goldit was like fightin' with my bare handsagainst a gatlin' gun. They coulda

cheated mewhole thingon paperI wouldn't knowluckjust luck they didn't. So you take itand

git the boy schoolin'. Costs moneyI know thatgit him all it'll buy. Send him where they keepthe

best. Don't yuh let upn'er let himwhilst they's a dollar left. Put it allinto his headthen he can't lose

it, and he canmake it earn more. An'I guess I needn't ask yuhbe good to him. He ain't got

anybodynot a soulInjuns don't count. You see to itdon't let up tillit's all gone."

Phoebe had taken him literally. And Grant, if he had little taste for the task, had learned books and other

things not mentioned in the curriculums of the schools she sent him toand when the bag was reported by

Phoebe to be empty, he had returned with inward relief to the desultory life of the Hart ranch and its

His father would probably have been amazed to see how little difference that schooling made in the boy. The

money had lasted long enough to take him through a preparatory school and into the second year of a college;

and the only result apparent was speech a shade less slipshod than that of his fellows, and a vocabulary which

permitted him to indulge in an amazing number of epithets and in colorful vituperation when the fancy seized

He rode, hot and thirsty and tired, from Sage Hill one day and found Hartley empty of interest, hot as the trail

he had just now left thankfully behind him, and so absolutely sleepy that it seemed likely to sink into the

sageclothed earth under the weight of its own dullness. Even the whisky was so warm it burned like fire,

and the beer he tried left upon his outraged palate the unhappy memory of insipid warmth and great

He plumped the heavy glass down upon the grimy counter in the dusty far corner of the little store and stared

sourly at Pete Hamilton, who was apathetically opening hatboxes for the inspection of an Indian in a red

"How much?" The braided one fingered indecisively the broad brim of a gray sombrero.

"Nine dollars." Pete leaned heavily against the shelves behind him and sighed with the weariness of mere

"Huh! All same buy one good hoss." The braided one dropped the hat, hitched his blanket over his shoulder

Pete replaced the cover, seemed about to place the box upon the shelf behind him, and then evidently decided

"I do not. Hot toddy never did appeal to me, my friend. If you weren't too lazy to give orders, Pete, you'd

have cold beer for a day like this. You'd give Saunders something to do beside lie in the shade and tell what

kind of a man he used to be before his lungs went to the bad. Put him to work. Make him pack this stuff down

"We was going to get ice t'day, but they didn't throw it off when the train went through."

"That's comfortingto a man with a thirst like the great Sahara. Ice! Pete, do you know what I'd like to do to

Pete neither knew nor wanted to know, and he told Grant so. "If you're going down to the ranch," he added,

by way of changing the subject, "there's some mail you might as well take along."

"Sure, I'm goingfor a drink out of that spring, if nothing else. You've lost a good customer today, Pete. I

rode up here prepared to get sinfully jaggedand here I've got to go on a still hunt for water with a chill to

"I told you I don't wanta know. Some folks ain't never satisfied. A fellow that's rode thirty or forty miles to

get here, on a day like this, had oughta be glad to get anything that looks like beer."

"Is that so?" Grant walked purposefully down to the front of the store, where Pete was fumbling behind the

rampart of crude pigeonholes which was the postoffice. "Let me inform you, then, that"

There was a swish of skirts upon the rough platform outside, and a young woman entered with the manner of

feeling perfectly at home there. She was rather tall, rather strong and capable looking, and she was

"Don't get into a perspiration making up the mail, Pete," she advised calmly, quite ignoring both Grant and

the Indian. "Fifteen is an hour lateas usual. Jockey Bates always seems to be under the impression he's an

undertaker's assistant, and is headed for the graveyard when he takes fifteen out. He'll get the can, first he

knowsand he'll put in a month or two wondering why. I could make better time than he does myself." By

then she was leaning with both elbows upon the counter beside the postoffice, bored beyond words with life

"For Heaven's sake, Pete," she went on languidly, "can't you scare up a novel, or chocolates, or gum,

orANYTHING to kill time? I'd even enjoy chewing gum right nowit would give my jaws something to

Pete, grinning indulgently, came out of retirement behind the pigeonholes, and looked inquiringly around the

"I've got cards," he suggested. "What's the matter with a game of solitary? I've known men to put in hull

winters alone, up in the mountains, jest eating and sleeping and playin' solitary."

The young woman made a grimace of disgust. "I've come from three solid hours of it. What I really do want

"Saunders is readin' 'The Brokenhearted Bride' you can have it soon's he's through. He says it's a peach."

"Fifteen is bringing up a bunch of magazines. I'll have reading in plenty two hours from now; but my heavens

"Forget it, then. A fivepound box of chocolates is dueon fifteen." She sighed heavily. "I wish you weren't

so old, and hadn't quite so many chins, Pete," she complained. "I'd inveigle you into a flirtation. You see how

Pete smiled unhappily. He was sensitive about all those chins, and the general bulk which accompanied them.

"Let me make you acquainted with my friend, Good InerMr. Imsen." Pete considered that he was

behaving with great discernment and tact. "This is Miss Georgie Howard, the new operator." He twinkled his

little eyes at her maliciously. "Say, he ain't got but one chin, and he's only twentythree years old." He felt

She turned her head slowly and looked Grant over with an air of disparagement, while she nodded

negligently as an acknowledgment to the introduction. "Pete thinks he's awfully witty," she remarked. "It's

Pete bristledas much as a fat man could bristle on so hot a day. "Well, you said you wanted to flirt, and so

"Pete, you're an idiot ordinarily, but when you try to be smart you're absolutely insufferable. You're mentally

incapable of recognizing the line of demarcation between legitimate persiflage and objectionable familiarity.

An ignoramus of your particular class ought to confine his repartee to unqualified affirmation or the negative

monosyllable." Whereupon he pulled his hat more firmly upon his head, hunched his shoulders in disgust,

remembered his manners, and bowed to Miss Georgie Howard, and stalked out, as straight of back as the

Indian whose blanket he brushed, and who may have been, for all he knew, a blood relative of his.

"I guess that ought to hold you for a while, Pete," Miss Georgie approved under her breath, and stared after

Grant curiously. "'You're mentally incapable of recognizing the line of demarcation between legitimate

persiflage and objectionable familiarity.' I'll bet two bits you don't know what that means, Pete; but it hits you

She got no reply to that. Indeed, she did not wait for a reply. Outside, things were happeningand, since

Miss Georgie was dying of dullness, she hailed the disturbance as a Heavensent blessing, and ran to see

Briefly, Grant had inadvertently stepped on a sleeping dog's pawa dog of the mongrel breed which infests

Indian camps, and which had attached itself to the blanketed buck inside. The dog awoke with a yelp, saw

that it was a stranger who had perpetrated the outrage, and straightway fastened its teeth in the leg of Grant's

trousers. Grant kicked it loose, and when it came at him again, he swore vengeance and mounted his horse in

He did not say a word. He even smiled while he uncoiled his rope, widened the loop, and, while the dog was

circling warily and watching for another chance at him, dropped the loop neatly over its front quarters, and

Saunders, a weaklunged, bandylegged individual, who was officially a general chore man for Pete, but

who did little except lie in the shade, reading novels or gossiping, awoke then, and, having a reputation for

"Turn him loose, I tell yuh! A helpless critter like thatyou oughta be ashamedabusin' dumb animals that

"You turn that dog loose!" Saunders became vehement, and paid the penalty of a paroxysm of coughing.

"You go to the devil. If you were an ablebodied man, I'd get you, toojust to have a pair of you. Yelping,

"That dog, him Viney dog. Viney heap likum. You no killum, Good Injun." The Indian, his arms folded in his

blanket, stood upon the porch watching calmly the fun. "Viney all time heap mad, you killum," he added

Grant hesitated, circling erratically with his victim close to the steps. "All right, no killumteachum lesson,

though. Viney heap bueno squawheap likum Viney. No likum dog, though. Dog all time come along me."

He glanced up, passed over the fact that Miss Georgie Howard was watching him and clapping her hands

enthusiastically at the spectacle, and settled an unfriendly stare upon Saunders.

"You shut up your yowling. You'll burst a blood vessel and go to heaven, first thing you know. I've never

contemplated hiring you as my guardian angel, you blatting buck sheep. Go off and lie down somewhere." He

turned in the saddle and looked down at the dog, clawing and fighting the rope which held him fast just back

of the shoulderblades. "Come along, doggieNICE doggie!" he grinned, and touched his horse with the

spurs. With one leap, it was off at a sharp gallop, up over the hill and through the sagebrush to where he knew

Old Wolfbelly had but that morning brought his thirty or forty followers to camp in the hollow where was a

spring of clear waterthe hollow which had for long been known locally as "the Indian Camp," because of

Wolfbelly's predilection for the spot. Without warning save for the beat of hoofs in the sandy soil, Grant

charged over the brow of the hill and into camp, scattering dogs, papooses, and squaws alike as he rode.

ShriLL clamor filled the sultry air. Sleeping bucks awoke, scowling at the uproar; and the horse of Good

Indian, hating always the smell and the litter of an Indian camp, pitched furiously into the very wikiup of old

Hagar, who hated the rider of old. In the first breathing spell he loosed the dog, which skulked, limping, into

the first sheltered spot be found, and laid him down to lick his outraged person and whimper to himself at the

memory of his plight. Grant pulled his horse to a restive stand before a group of screeching squaws, and

"Hello! Viney! I brought back your dog," he drawled. "He tried to bite meheap kay bueno* dog. Mebbyso

you killum. Me no hurtumall time him Hartley, all time him try hard bite me. Sleeping Turtle tell me him

Viney dog. he likum Viney, me no kill Viney dog. You all time mebbyso eat that dogsabe? No keepKay

*AUTHOR'S NOTE.The Indians of southern Idaho spoke a somewhat mixed dialect. Bueno (wayno),

their word for 'good,' undoubtedly being taken from the Spanish language. I believe the word "kay" to be

Indian. It means "no', and thus the "Kay bueno" so often used by them means literally 'no good," and is a term

of reproach On the other hand, "heap bueno" is "very good," their enthusiasm being manifested merely by

drawing out the word "heap." In speaking English they appear to have no other way of expressing, in a single

Without waiting to see whether Viney approved of his method of disciplining her dog, or intended to take his

advice regarding its disposal, he wheeled and started off in the direction of the trail which led down the bluff

to the Hart ranch. When he reached the first steep descent, however, he remembered that Pete had spoken of

Once more in Hartley, he found that the belated train was making up time, and would be there within an hour;

and, since it carried mail from the West, it seemed hardly worthwhile to ride away before its arrival. Also,

Pete intimated that there was a good chance of prevailing upon the diningcar conductor to throw off a chunk

of ice. Grant, therefore, led his horse around into the shade, and made himself comfortable while he waited.

Down the winding trail of Snake River bluff straggled a blanketed half dozen of old Wolfbelly's tribe, the

braves stalking moodily in front and kicking up a gray cloud of dust which enveloped the squaws behind

them but could not choke to silence their shrill chatter; for old Hagar was there, and Viney, and the incident

The Hart boys were assembled at the corral, halterbreaking a threeyearold for the pure fun of it. Wally

caught sight of the approaching blotch of color, and yelled a wordless greeting; him had old Hagar carried

lovingly upon her broad shoulders with her own papoose when he was no longer than her arm; and she knew

his voice even at that distance, and grinnedgrinned and hid her joy in a fold of her dingy red blanket.

"Looks like old Wolfbelly's back," Clark observed needlessly. "Donny, if they don't go to the house right

away, you go and tell mum they're here. Chances are the whole bunch'll hang around till supper."

"Say!" Gene giggled with fourteenyearold irrepressibility. "Does anybody know where Vadnie is? If we

could spring 'em on her and make her believe they're on the warpathsay, I'll gamble she'd run clear to the

"I told her, cross my heart, this morning that the Injuns are peaceful now. I said Good Injun was the only one

that's dangerousoh, I sure did throw a good stiff load, all right!" Clark grinned at the memory. "I've got to

see Grant first, when he gets back, and put him wise to the rep he's got. Vad didn't hardly swallow it. She

said: 'Why, Cousin Clark! Aunt Phoebe says he's perfectly lovely!"' Clark mimicked the girl's voice with

"Awthere's a lot of squaws tagging along behind!" Donny complained disgustedly from his post of

observation on the fence. "They'll go to the house first thing to gabblethere's old Hagar waddling along

like a duck. You can't make that warpath business stick, Clarknot with all them squaws."

"Well, say, you sneak up and hide somewhere till yuh see if Vadnie's anywhere around. If they get settled

down talking to mum, they're good for an hourshe's churning, Donyou hide in the rocks by the

milkhouse till they get settled. And I'll see if Git! Pikeway, while they're behind the stacks!"

Donny climbed down and scurried through the sand to the house as if his very life depended upon reaching it

unseen. The group of Indians came up, huddled at the corral, and peered through the stout rails.

"How! How!" chorused the boys, and left the horse for a moment while they shook hands ceremoniously with

the three bucks. Three Indians, Clark decided regretfully, would make a tame showing on the warpath,

however much they might lend themselves to the spirit of the joke. He did not quite know how he was going

to manage it, but he was hopeful still. It was unthinkable that real live Indians should be permitted to come

and go upon the ranch without giving Evadna Ramsey, straight from New Jersey, the scare of her life.

The three bucks, grunting monosyllabic greetings' climbed, in all the dignity of their blankets, to the top rail

of the corral, and roosted there to watch the horsebreaking; and for the present Clark held his peace.

The squaws hovered there for a moment longer, peeping through the rails. Then Hagarshe of much flesh

and more tempergrunted a word or two, and they turned and plodded on to where the house stood hidden

away in its nest of cool green. For a space they stood outside the fence, peering warily into the shade,

instinctively cautious in their manner of approaching a strange place, and detained also by the Indian etiquette

After a period of waiting which seemed to old Hagar sufficient, she pulled her blanket tight across her broad

hips, waddled to the gate, pulled it open with selfconscious assurance, and led the way softfootedly around

the house to where certain faint sounds betrayed the presence of Phoebe Hart in her stone milk house.

At the top of the short flight of wide stone steps they stopped and huddled silently, until the black shadow of

them warned Phoebe of their presence. She had lived too long in the West to seem startled when she suddenly

discovered herself watched by three pair of beady black eyes, so she merely nodded, and laid down her

"How, Hagar? How, Viney? How, Lucy? Heap glad to see you. Bueno buttermilkmebbyso you drinkum?"

However diffident they might be when it came to announcing their arrival, their bashfulness did not extend to

accepting offers of food or drink. Three brown hands were eagerly outstretchedthough it was the hand of

Hagar which grasped first the big tin cup. They not only drank, they guzzled, and afterward drew a fold of

"Bueno. Heeap bueno!" they chorused appreciatively, and squatted at the top of the stone steps, watching

After a brief silence, Hagar shook the tangle of unkempt, black hair away from her moonlike face, and began

"Mebbyso Tom, mebbyso Sharlie, mebbyso Sleeping Turtle all time come along," she announced. "Stop all

When Phoebe nodded assent, Hagar went on to the news which had brought her so soon to the ranchthe

"Good Injun, him all time heap kay bueno," she stated emphatically, her sloe black eyes fixed unwaveringly

upon Phoebe's face to see if the stab was effective. "Good Injun come Hartley, all time drunk likum pig.

"All time heap yell, heap shootkay bueno. Wantum fight Manthatcoughs. Come all time camp, heap

yell, heap shoot some more. I fetchum dogViney dogheap dragum through sagebrushdog all time cry,

no can get awayme thinkum kill that dog. Squaws cryViney cryGood Injun"Hagar paused here for

greater effect"makum horse all time buckridum in wikiupHagar wikiupall time breakumno can

fix that wikiup. Good Injun, heeeap kay bueno!" At the last her voice was high and tremulous with anger.

"Good Indian mebbyso all same my boy Wally." Phoebe gave the butter a vicious slap. "Me heap love Good

Indian. You no call Good Indian, you call Grant. Grant bueno. Heap bueno all time. No drunk, no yell, no

shoot, mebbyso"she hesitated, knowing well the possibilities of her foster son"mebbyso catchum

Viney and Lucy nudged each other and tittered into their blankets, for the argument was an old one between

Hagar and Phoebe, though the grievance of Hagar might be fresh. Hagar shifted her blanket and thrust out a

"Wally boy, heap bueno," she said; and her malicious old face softened as she spoke of him, dear as her own

firstborn. "Jack bueno, mebbyso Gene bueno, mebbyso Clark, mebbyso Donny all time bueno." Doubt was

in her voice when she praised those last two, however, because of their continual teasing. She stopped short

to emphasize the damning contrast. "Good Injun all same mebbyso yo' boy Grant, heeeeeap kay bueno.

It was at this point that Donny slipped away to report that "Mamma and old Hagar are scrappin' over Good

Injun again," and told with glee the tale of his misdeeds as recounted by the squaw.

Phoebe in her earnestness forgot to keep within the limitations of their dialect.

"Grant's a good boy, and a smart boy. There isn't a betterhearted fellow in the country, if I have got five

boys of my own. You think I like him better than I like Wally, is all ails you, Hagar. You're jealous of Grant,

and you always have been, ever since his father left him with me. I hope my heart's big enough to hold them

all." She remembered then that they could not understand half she was saying, and appealed to Viney. Viney

"Viney, you tell me. Grant no come Hartley, no drunk, no yell, no catchum you dog, no ride in Hagar's

Viney and Lucy bobbed their heads rapidly up and down. Viney, with a sidelong glance at Hagar, spoke

"Good Injun Grant, mebbyso home Hartley," she admitted reluctantly, as if she would have been pleased to

prove Hagar a liar in all things. "Me thinkum no drunk. Mebbyso ketchum dogdog kay bueno, mebbyso

me killing. Good Injun Grant no heap yell, no shoot all timemebbyso no drunk. No breakum wikiup. Horse

"Shontisham!" (big lie) Hagar interrupted shrilly then, and Viney relapsed into silence, her thin face

growing sullen under the upbraiding she received in her native tongue. Phoebe, looking at her attentively,

There was a sudden check to Hagar's shrewish clamor. The squaws stiffened to immobility and listened

stolidly, their eyes alone betraying the curiosity they felt. Off somewhere at the head of the tiny pond, hidden

away in the jungle of green, a voice was singing; a girl's voice, and a strange voicefor the squaws knew

"Where ketchum yo' girl?" Hagar forgot her petulance, and became curious as any white woman.

"Me ketchum 'way off, where sun come up. In time me have heap boysmebbyso want girl all time. My

mother's sister's boy have one girl, 'way off where sun come up. My mother's sister's boy die, his wife all

same die, that girl mebbyso heap sad; no got father, no got motherall time got nobody. Kay bueno. That

girl send one letter, say all time got nobody. Me want one girl. Me send one letter, tell that girl come, be all

time my girl. Five days ago, that girl come. Her heap glad; boys all time heap glad, my man heap glad.

Bueno. Mebbyso you glad me have one girl." Not that their approval was necessary, or even of much

Hagar's lip was outthrust again. "Yo' ketchum one girl, mebbyso yo' no more likum my boy Wally. Kay

"Heap like all my boys jus' same," Phoebe hastened to assure her, and added with a hint of malice, "Heap like

"Huh!" Hagar chose to remain unconvinced and antagonistic. "Good Injun kay bueno. Yo' girl, mebbyso kay

"Name Evadna Ramsey." In spite of herself, Phoebe felt a trifle chilled by their lack of enthusiasm. She went

The squaws blinked at her stolidly. Always they were inclined toward suspicion of strangers, and perhaps to a

measure of jealousy as well. Not many whites received them with frank friendship as did the Hart family, and

they felt far more upon the subject than they might put into words, even the words of their own language.

Many of the white race looked upon them as beggars, which was bad enough, or as thieves, which was worse;

and in a general way they could not deny the truth of it. But they never stole from the Harts, and they never

openly begged from the Harts. The friends of the Harts, however, must prove their friendship before they

could hope for better than an imperturbable neutrality. So they would not pretend to be glad. Hagar was

rightperhaps the girl was no good. They would wait until they could pass judgment upon this girl who had

come to live in the wikiup of the Harts. Then Lucy, she who longed always for children and had been denied

"Mebbyso bueno yo' girl,', she yielded, speaking softly. "Mebbyso see yo' girl."

Phoebe's face cleared, and she called, in mellow crescendo: "Oh, VaadNIEE?" Immediately the singing

The squaws wrapped themselves afresh in their blankets, passed brown palms smoothingly down their hair

from the part in the middle, settled their braids upon their bosoms with true feminine instinct, and waited.

They heard her feet crunching softly in the gravel that bordered the pond, but not a head turned that way; for

all the sign of life they gave, the three might have been mere effigies of women. They heard a faint scream

when she caught sight of them sitting there, and their faces settled into more stolid indifference, adding a hint

"Vadnie, here are some new neighbors I want you to get acquainted with." Phoebe's eyes besought the girl to

be calm. "They're all old friends of mine. Come here and let me introduce youand don't look so horrified,

Those incorrigibles, her cousins, would have whooped with joy at her unmistakable terror when she held out

"This Hagar," Phoebe announced cheerfully; and the old squaw caught the girl's hand and gripped it tightly

Viney, reading Evadna's face in one keen, upward glance, kept her hands hidden in the folds of her blanket,

Lucy read also the girl's face; but she reached up, pressed her hand gently, and her glance was soft and

"Bring some of that cake you baked today, honeyand do brace up!" Phoebe patted her upon the shoulder.

Hagar forestalled the hospitable intent by getting slowly upon her fat legs, shaking her hair out of her eyes,

and grunting a command to the others. With visible reluctance Lucy and Viney rose also, hitched their

"Oooo!" Evadna stared at the place where they were not. "Wild IndiansI thought the boys were just

"Oh, they ARE wild. They're exactly like in my historyand they don't make a sound when they goyou

just look, and they're gone! That old fat onedid you see how she looked at me? As if she wanted

"Well, she didn't take it with her, did she? Don't be silly. I've known old Hagar ever since Wally was a baby.

She took him right to her own wikiup and nursed him with her own papoose for two months when I was sick,

and Viney stayed with me day and night and pulled me through. Lucy I've known since she was a papoose.

Great grief, child! Didn't you hear me say they're old friends? I wanted you to be nice to them, because if they

like you there's nothing they won't do for you. If they don't, there's nothing they WILL do. You might as well

Out by the gate rose a clamor which swept nearer and nearer until the noise broke at the corner of the house

like a great wave, in a tumult of red blanket, flying black hair, the squalling of a female voice, and the harsh

laughter of the man who carried the disturbance, kicking and clawing, in his arms. Fighting his way to the

milkhouse, he dragged the squaw along beside the porch, followed by the Indians and all the Hart boys, a

"You tell her shontisham! Ahhyou can't break loose, you old shewildcat. Quit your biting, will you?

Panting, laughing, swearing also in breathless exclamations, he forced her to the top of the steps, backed

recklessly down them, and came to a stop in the corner by the door. Evadna had taken refuge there; and he

pressed her hard against the rough wall without in the least realizing that anything was behind him save

"Now, you sing your little song, and be quick about it!" he commanded his captive sternly. "You tell Mother

Hart you lied. I hear she's been telling you I'm drunk, Mother Hartdidn't you, you old beldam? You say

you heap sorry you all time tellum lie. You say: 'Good Injun, him all time heap bueno.' Say: 'Good Injun no

drunk, no heap shoot, no heap yellall time bueno.' Quick, or I'll land you headforemost in that pond, you

"Good Injun heeeeap kay bueno! Heap debbil all time." Hagar might be short of breath, but her spirit was

Phoebe caught him by the arm then, thinking he meant to make good his threatand it would not have been

"Now, Grant, you let her go," she coaxed. "I know you aren't drunkof course, I knew it all the time. I told

Hagar so. What do you care what she says about you? You don't want to fight an old woman, Granta man

"You tell her you heap big liar!" Grant did not even look at Phoebe, but his purpose seemed to waver in spite

of himself. "You all time kay bueno. You all time lie." He gripped her more firmly, and turned his head

slightly toward Phoebe. "You'd be tired of it yourself if she threw it into you like she does into me, Mother

Hart. It's got so I can't ride past this old hag in the trail but she gives me the bad eye, and mumbles into her

blanket. And if I look sidewise, she yowls all over the country that I'm drunk. I'm getting tired of it!" He

shook the squaw as a puppy shakes a shoeshook her till her hair quite hid her ugly old face from sight.

"All rightMother Hart she tellum mebbyso let you go. This time I no throw you in pond. You heap take

care next time, mebbyso. You no tellum big lie, me all time heap drunk. You kay bueno. All time me tellum

Mother Hart, tellum boys, tellum Viney, Lucy, tellum Charlie and Tom and Sleeping Turtle you heap big liar.

Me tell Wally shontisham. Him all time my friendmebbyso him no likum you no more.

He laughed ironically, and pushed her from him so suddenly that she sprawled upon the steps. The Indians

grinned unsympathetically at her, for Hagar was not the most popular member of the tribe by any means.

Scrambling up, she shook her witch locks from her face, wrapped herself in her dingy blanket, and scuttled

away, muttering maledictions under her breath. The watching group turned and followed her, and in a few

seconds the gate was heard to slam shut behind them. Grant stood where he was, leaning against the

"No need to lecture, Mother Hart. I know it was a fool thing to do; but when Donny told me what the old

Phoebe caught him again by the arm and pulled him forward. "Grant! You're squeezing Vadnie to death, just

about! Great grief, I forgot all about the poor child being here! You poor little"

"Squeezing who?" Grant whirled, and caught a brief glimpse of a crumpled little figure behind him, evidently

too scared to cry, and yet not quite at the fainting point of terror. He backed, and began to stammer an

apology; but she did not wait to hear a word of it. For an instant she stared into his face, and then, like a

rabbit released from its paralysis of dread, she darted past him and deaf up the stone steps into the house. He

heard the kitchendoor shut, and the click of the lock. He heard other doors slam suggestively; and he

"And who the deuce might that be?" he asked, feeling in his pocket for smoking material.

Phoebe seemed undecided between tears and laughter. "Oh, Grant, GRANT! She'll think you're ready to

murder everybody on the ranchand you can be such a nice boy when you want to be! I did hope"

"I don't want to be nice," Grant objected, drawing a match along a fairly smooth rock.

"Well, I wanted you to appear at your best; and, instead of that, here you come, squabbling with old Hagar

"Timid! You nearly killed the poor girl, besides scaring her half to death, and then you call her timid. I know

she thought there was going to be a real Indian massacre, right here, and she'd be scalped"

"Say, you've sure cooked your goose with old Hagar, Grant! She's right on the warpath, and then some. She'd

like to burn yuh aliveshe said so. She's headed for camp, and all the rest of the bunch at her heels. She

won't come here any more till you're kicked off the ranch, as near as I could make out her jabbering. And she

won't do your washing any more, mumshe said so. You're kay bueno yourself, because you take Good

Indian's part. We're all kay buenoall but me. She wanted me to quit the bunch and go live in her wikiup.

I'm the only decent one in the outfit." He gave his mother an affectionate little hug as he went past, and began

an investigative tour of the stone jars on the cool rock floor within. "What was it all about, Grant? What did

"Oh, it wasn't anything. Hand me up a cup of that buttermilk, will you? They've got a dog up there in camp

that I'm going to kill some of these daysif they don't beat me to it. He was up at the store, and when I went

out to get my horse, he tried to take a leg off me. I kicked him in the nose and he came at me again, so when I

mounted I just dropped my loop over Mr. Dog. Sleeping Turtle was there, and he said the dog belonged to

He grinned a little at the memory of his gentleness. "I told Viney I thought he'd make a fine stew, and, they'd

better use him up right away before he spoiled. That's all there was to it. Well, Keno did sink his head and

pitch around camp a little, but not to amount to anything. He just stuck his nose into old Hagar's wikiupand

He took a meditative bite of cake, finished the buttermilk in three rapturous swallows, and bethought him of

"Vad? Was Vad in on it, mum? I never saw her." Wally straightened up with a fresh chunk of cake in his

"Yes," his mother admitted reluctantly, "I guess she was, all right. First the squawsand, poor girl, I made

"Say, PLEASE don't tell me who she is, or where she belongs, or anything like that," Grant interposed, with

some sarcasm. "I smashed her flat between me and the wall, and I scared the daylights out of her; and I'm told

"She belongs right here." Phoebe's tone was a challenge, whether she meant it to be so or not. "This is going

to be her home from now on; and I want you boys to treat her nicer than you've been doing. She's been here a

week almost; and there ain't one of you that's made friends with her yet, or tried to, even. You've played jokes

on her, and told her things to scare herand my grief! I was hoping she'd have a softening influence on you,

and make gentlemen of you. And far as I can make out, just having her on the place seems to put the Old

Harry into every one of you! It isn't right. It isn't the way I expected my boys would act toward a strangera

"Sure, he ought to. Us boneheads don't know any betterbut Grant's EDUCATED." Wally grinned and

"I'm not educated up to Christmas angels that look as if they'd been stepped on," Grant defended himself.

"She's a real nice little thing. If you boys would quit teasing the life out of her, I don't doubt but what, in six

"I don't know the girl now." Grant spoke dryly. "I don't want to. If I'd held a tomahawk in one hand and her

flowing locks in the other, and was just letting a warwhoop outa me, she'd look at methe way she did

look." He snorted in contemptuous amusement, and gave a little, writhing twist of his slim body into his

trousers. "I never did like blondes," he added, in a tone of finality, and started up the steps.

"You never liked anything that wore skirts," Phoebe flung after him indignantly; and she came very close to

Phoebe watched the two unhappily, sighed when they disappeared around the corner of the house, and set her

bowl of butter upon the broad, flat rock which just missed being overflowed with water, and sighed again.

"I'm afraid it isn't going to work," she murmured aloud; for Phoebe, having lived much of her life in the

loneliness which the West means to women, frequently talked to herself. "She's such a nice little thingbut

the boys don't take to her like I thought they would. I don't see as she's having a mite of influence on their

manners, unless it's to make them act worse, just to shock her. Clark USED to take off his hat when he come

into the house most every time. And great grief! Now he'd wear it and his chaps and spurs to the table, if I

didn't make him take them off. She's niceshe's most too nice. I've got to give that girl a good talking to."

She mounted the steps to the back porch, tried tho kitchen door, and found it locked. She went around to the

door on the west side, opposite the gate, found that also secured upon the inside, and passed grimly to the

"My grief! I didn't know any of these doors COULD be locked!" she muttered angrily. "They never have

been before that I ever heard of." She stopped before Evadna's window, and saw, through a slit in the green

blind, that the oldfashioned bureau had been pulled close before it. "My grief!" she whispered disgustedly,

and retraced her steps to the east side, which, being next to the pond, was more secluded. She surveyed dryly

a window left wide open there, gathered her brownandwhite calico dress close about her plump person,

and crawled grimly through into the sitting room, where, to the distress of Phoebe's orderloving soul, the

carpet was daily wellsanded with the tread of boys' boots fresh from outdoors, and where cigarette stubs

decorated every windowsill, and the stale odor of Peaceful's pipe was never long absent.

She went first to all the outer rooms, and unlocked every one of the outraged doors which, unless in the

uproar and excitement of racing, laughing boys pursuing one another all over the place with much slamming

and goodnatured threats of various sorts, had never before barred the way of any man, be he red or white,

Evadna's door was barricaded, as Phoebe discovered when she turned the knob and attempted to walk in. She

gave the door an indignant push, and heard a muffled shriek within, as if Evadna's head was buried under her

"My grief! A body'd think you expected to be killed and eaten," she called out unsympathetically. "You open

this door! Vadnie Ramsey. This is a nice way to act with my own boys, in my own house! A body'd think"

There was the sound of something heavy being dragged laboriously away from tho barricaded door; and in a

"Oh, I don't see how you dare to LLIVE in such a place, Aunt Phoebe!" she cried tearfully, opening the door

"That was only Grant, honey. Let me in. There's a few things I want to say to you, Vadnie. You promised to

help me teach my boys to be gentleit's all they lack, and it takes gentle women, honey"

"I am gentle," Evadna protested grievedly. "I've never once forgotten to be gentle and quiet, and I haven't

"Let me in, honey, and we'll talk it over. Something's got to be done. If you wouldn't be so timid, and would

make friends with them, instead of looking at them as if you expected them to murder youI must say,

Vadnie, you're a real temptation; they can't help scaring you when you go around acting as if you expected to

be scared. Youyou're TOO" The door opened still wider, and she went in. "Now, the idea of a great girl

like you hiding her head under a pillow just because Grant asked old Hagar to apologize!"

Evadna sat down upon the edge of the bed and stared unwinkingly at her aunt. "They don't apologize like that

in New Jersey," she observed, with some resentment in her voice, and dabbed at her unbelievably blue eyes

"I know they don't, honey." Phoebe patted her hand reassuringly. "That's what I want you to help me teach

my boysto be real gentlemen. They're pure gold, every one of them; but I can't deny they're pretty rough on

"Oh, I know. I understand perfectly. You just got me out here as aa sort of sandpaper for your boys'

manners!" Evadna choked over a little sob of selfpity. "I can just tell you one thing, Aunt Phoebe, that

fellow you call Grant ought to be smoothed with one of those funny axes they hew logs with."

Phoebe bit her lips because she wanted to treat the subject very seriously. "I want you to promise me, honey,

that you will be particularly nice to Grant; PARTICULARLY nice. He's so alone, and he's very proud and

"I hate him!" gritted Evadna, in an emphatic whisper which her Aunt Phoebe thought it wise not to seem to

Phoebe settled herself comfortably for a long talk. The murmur of her voice as she explained and comforted

and advised came soothingly from the room, with now and then an interruption while she waited for a tardy

answer to some question. Finally she rose and stood in the doorway, looking back at a huddled figure on the

"Now dry your eyes and be a good girl, and remember what you've promised," she admonished kindly. "Aunt

Phoebe didn't mean to scold you, honey; she only wants you to feel that you belong here, and she wants you

to like her boys and have them like you. They've always wanted a sister to pet; and Aunt Phoebe is hoping

"Yyes," murmured Vadnie meekly from the pillow. "I know you will." Phoebe looked at her for a moment

longer rather wistfully, and turned away. "I do wish she had some spunk," she muttered complainingly, not

thinking that Evadna might hear her. "She don't take after the Ramseys nonethere wasn't anything mushy

"Mushy! MUSHY!" Evadna sat up and stared at nothing at all while she repeated the word under her breath.

"She wants me to be gentleshe preached gentleness in her letters, and told how her boys need it, and

She reached mechanically for her hairbrush, and fumbled in a tumbled mass of shining, yellow hair quite as

unbelievable in its way as were her eyesGrant had shown a faculty for observing keenly when he called

her a Christmas angeland drew out a half dozen hairpins, letting them slide from her lap to the floor.

"MUSHY!" she repeated, and shook down her hair so that it framed her face and those eyes of hers. "I

suppose that's what they all say behind my back. And how can a girl be nice WITHOUT being mushy?" She

drew the brush meditatively through her hair. "I am scared to death of Indians," she admitted, with analytical

Grant stood smoking in the doorway of the sittingroom, where he could look out upon the smooth waters of

the pond darkening under the shade of the poplars and the bluff behind, when Evadna came out of her room.

He glanced across at her, saw her hesitate, as if she were meditating a retreat, and gave his shoulders a twitch

of tolerant amusement that she should be afraid of him. Then he stared out over the pond again. Evadna

"So you're that other savage whose manners I'm supposed to smooth, are you?" she asked abruptly, coming to

a stop within three feet of him, and regarding him carefully, her hands clasped behind her.

"Please don't tease the animals," Grant returned, in the same impersonal tone which she had seen fit to

employbut his eyes turned for a sidelong glance at her, although he appeared to be watching the trout rise

"I'm supposed to be nice to youparTICularly nicebecause you need it most. I dare say you do,

judging from what I've seen of you. At any rate, I've promised. But I just want you to understand that I'm not

going to mean one single bit of it. I don't like youI can't endure you!and if I'm nice, it will just be

because I've promised Aunt Phoebe. You're not to take my politeness at its face value, for back of it I shall

Grant's lips twitched, and there was a covert twinkle in his eyes, though he looked around him with elaborate

"It's early in the day for mosquitoes," he drawled; "but I was sure I heard one buzzing somewhere close."

"Aunt Phoebe ought to get a street roller to smooth your manners," Evadna observed pointedly.

"Instead it's as if she hung her picture of a Christmas angel up before the wolf's den, eh?" he suggested

calmly, betraying his Indian blood in the unconsciously symbolic form of expression. "No doubt the wolf's

nature will be greatly benefitedhis teeth will be dulled for his prey, his voice softened for the nightcryif

"I don't think he'll be long in making the discovery." The blue of Evadna's eyes darkened and darkened until

they were almost black. "Christmas angel,well, I like that! Much you know about angels."

"If it isn't a Christmas angelthey're always very blue and very golden, and pinkywhiteyif it isn't a

Christmas angel, for the Lord's sake what is it?" He gave his head a slight shake, as if the problem was

"Oh, I could pinch you!" She gritted her teeth to prove she meant what she said.

"It says it could pinch me." Grant lazily addressed the trout. "I wonder why it didn't, then, when it was being

"I do believe it's got a temper. I wonder, now, if it could be a LIVE angel?" Grant spoke to the softly swaying

"Oh, youthere now!" She made a swift little rush at him, nipped his biceps between a very small thumb

and two fingers, and stood back, breathing quickly and regarding him in a shamed defiance. "I'll show you

"It's alive, and it's a hummingbird. Angels don't pinch." Grant laid a finger upon his arm and drawled his

solution of a trivial mystery. "It mistook me for a honeysuckle, and gave me a peck to make sure." He smiled

indulgently, and exhaled a long wreath of smoke from his nostrils. "Dear little hummingbirdsso simple

"And I've promised to be nice toTHAT!" cried Evadna, in bitterness, and rushed past him to the porch.

Being a house built to shelter a family of boys, and steps being a superfluity scorned by their agile legs, there

was a sheer drop of three feet to the ground upon that side. Evadna made it in a jump, just as the boys did,

"I hate youhate youHATE YOU!" she cried, her eyes blazing up at his amused face before she ran off

"It sings a sweet little song," he taunted, and his laughter followed her mockingly as she fled from him into

"What's the joke, Good Injun? Tell us, so we can laugh too." Wally and Jack hurried in from the kitchen and

From under his straight, black brows Grant sent a keen glance into the shade of the grove, where, an instant

before, had flickered the white of Evadna's dress. The shadows lay there quietly now, undisturbed by so much

"I was just thinking of the way I yanked that dog down into old Wolfbelly's camp," he said, though there was

no tangible reason for lying to them. "Mister!" he added, his eyes still searching the shadows out there in the

"There's no use asking the Injuns to go on the warpath," Gene announced disgustedly, coming out upon the

porch where the rest of the boys were foregathered, waiting for the ringing tattoo upon the iron triangle just

outside the back door which would be the supper summons. "They're too lazy to take the troubleand,

besides, they're scared of dad. I was talking to Sleeping Turtle just nowmet him down there past the Point

"What's the matter with us boys going on the warpath ourselves? We don't need the Injuns. As long as she

knows they're hanging around close, it's all the same. If we could just get mum off the ranch"

"If we could kidnap hersay, I wonder if we couldn't!" Clark looked at the others tentatively.

"Good Injun might do the rescue act and square himself with her for what happened at the milkhouse,"

"Oh, say, you'd scare her to death. There's no use in piling it on quite so thick," Jack interposed mildly. "I

kinda like the kid sometimes. Yesterday, when I took her part way up the bluff, she acted almost human. On

"Kill the traitor! Down with him! Curses on the man who betrays us!" growled Wally, waving his cigarette

Whereupon Gene and Clark seized the offender by heels and shoulders, and with a brief, panting struggle

"Over the cliff he goesso may all traitors perish!" Wally declaimed approvingly, drawing up his legs

"Say, old Peppajee's down at the stable with papa," Donny informed them breathlessly. "I told Marie to put

him right next to Vadnie if he stays to supperand, uh course, he will. If mamma don't get next and change

his place, it'll be fun to watch her; watch Vad, I mean. She's scared plum to death of anything that wears a

"That girl's got to be educated some if she's going to live in this family," Wally observed meditatively.

"There's a whole lot she's got to learn, and the only way to learn her thorough is"

"You forget," Grant interrupted him ironically, "that she's going to make gentlemen of us all."

"Oh, yessure. Jack's coming down with it already. You oughta be quarantined, oldtimer; that's liable to be

catching." Wally snorted his disdain of the whole proceeding. "I'd rather go to jail myself."

Evadna by a circuitous route had reached the sittingroom without being seen or heard; and it was at this

point in the conversation that she tiptoed out again, her hands doubled into tight little fists, and her teeth set

When the triangle clanged its supper call, however, she came slowly down from her favorite nook at the head

"Here she comeslet's get to our places first, so mamma can't change Peppajee around," Donny implored, in

a whisper; and the group on the porch disappeared with some haste into the kitchen.

Evadna was leisurely in her movements that night. The tea had been poured and handed around the table by

the Portuguese girl, Marie, and the sugarbowl was going after, when she settled herself and her ruffles

daintily between Grant and a braided, greenblanketed, dignifiedly loquacious Indian.

The boys signaled each another to attention by kicking surreptitiously under the table, but nothing happened.

Evadna bowed a demure acknowledgment when her Aunt Phoebe introduced the two, accepted the

sugarbowl from Grant and the butter from Peppajee, and went composedly about the business of eating her

supper. She seemed perfectly at ease; too perfectly at ease, decided Grant, who had an instinct for observation

and was covertly watching her. It was unnatural that she should rub elbows with Peppajee without betraying

the faintest trace of surprise that he should be sitting at the table with them.

"Long time ago," Peppajee was saying to Peaceful, taking up the conversation where Evadna had evidently

interrupted it, "many winters ago, my people all time brave. A]1 time hunt, all time fight, all time heap

strong. No drinkum whisky all same now." He flipped a braid back over his shoulder, buttered generously a

hot biscuit, and reached for the honey." No brave no morekay bueno. All time ketchum whisky, get drunk

all same likum hog. Heap lazy. No hunt no more, no fight. Lay all time in sun, sleep. No sun come, lay all

time in wikiup. Agent, him givum flour, givum meat, givum blanket, you thinkum bueno. He tellum you, kay

bueno. Makum Injun lazy. Makum all same wacheetypo" (tramp). "All time eat, all time sleep, playum

cards all time, drinkum whisky. Kay bueno. Huh." The grunt stood for disgust of his tribe, always something

"My brother, my brother's wife, my brother's wife'sah" He searched his mind, frowning, for an English

word, gave it up, and substituted a phrase. "All the folks b'longum my brother's wife, heap lazy all time. Me

no likum. Agent one time givum plenty flour, plenty meat, plenty tea. Huh. Them damn' folks no eatum. All

time playum cards, drinkum whisky. All time otha fella ketchum flour, ketchum meat, ketchum

teaketchum all them thing b'longum." In the rhetorical pause he made there, his black eyes wandered

inadvertently to Evadna's face. And Evadna, the timid one, actually smiled back.

"Huh." Peppajee turned his eyes and his attention to Peaceful, as if the opinion and the sympathy of a mere

female were not worthy his notice. "Them grub all gone, them Injuns mebbyso ketchum hungry belly."

"Come my wikiup. Me got plenty flour, plenty meat, plenty tea. Stay all time my wikiup. Sleepum my

wikiup. Sun come up"he pointed a brown, sinewy hand toward the east"eatum my grub. Sun up

there"his finger indicated the zenith"eatum some more. Sun go 'way, eatum some more. Then sleepum

all time my wikiup. Bimeby, mebbyso my flour all gone, my meat mebbyso gone, mebbyso teathem folks

all time eatum grub, me no ketchum. Me no playum cards, all same otha fella ketchum my grub. Kay bueno.

"Bimeby no ketchum mo' grub, no stopum my wikiup. Them folks pikeway. Me tellum 'Yo' heap lazy, heap

kay bueno. Yo' all time eatum my grub, yo' no givum me money, no givum hoss, no givum notting. Me damn'

mad all time yo'. Yo' go damn' quick!'" Peppajee held out his cup for more tea. "Me tellum my brother," he

finished sonorously, his black eyes sweeping lightly the faces of his audience, "yo' no come back, yo'"

Evadna caught her breath, as if someone had dashed cold water in her face. Never before in her life had she

heard the epithet unprintable, and she stared fixedly at the oldfashioned, silver castor which always stood in

Old Peaceful Hart cleared his throat, glanced furtively at Phoebe, and drew his hand down over his white

beard. The boys puffed their cheeks with the laughter they would, if possible, restrain, and eyed Evadna's set

"Peppajee, mebbyso you no more say them words," he said quietly. "Heap kay bueno. White man no tellum

where white woman hear. White woman no likum hear; all time heap shame for her."

"Huh," grunted Peppajee doubtingly, his eyes turning to Phoebe. Times before had he said them before

Phoebe Hart, and she had passed them by with no rebuke. Grant read the glance, and answered it.

"Mother Hart live long time in this place," he reminded him. "Hear bad talk many times. This girl no hear; no

likum hear. You sabe? You no make shame for this girl." He glanced challengingly across the table at Wally,

"Huh. Mebbyso you boss all same this ranch?" Peppajee retorted sourly. "Mebbyso Peacefu' tellum, him no

"WelllWE don't cuss much before the women," he admitted apologetically "We kinda consider that

men's talk. I reckon Vadnie'll overlook it this time." He looked across at her beseechingly. "You no feelum

"Huh. Me no makum squawtalk." Peppajee laid down his knife, lifted a corner of his blanket, and drew it

In the same tongue Grant answered him sharply, and after that was silence broken only by the subdued table

sounds. Evadna's eyes filled slowly until she finally pushed back her chair and hurried out into the yard and

She was scarcely settled, in the hammock, ready for a comforting half hour of tears, when someone came

from the house, stood for a minute while he rolled a cigarette, and then came straight toward her.

She sat up, and waited defensively. More baiting, without a doubtand she was not in the mood to

remember any promises about being a nice, gentle little thing. The figure came close, stooped, and took her

"Come over by the pond," he said, in what was almost a command." I want to talk to you a little."

"Does it occur to you that I might not want to talk t to you?" Still, she let him help her to her feet.

"Surely. You needn't open your lips if you don't want to. Just 'lend me your ears, and be silent that ye may

hear.' The boys will be boiling out on tho porch, as usual, in a minute; so hurry."

"I hope it's something very important," Evadna hinted ungraciously." Nothing else would excuse this

When they had reached the great rock where the i pond had its outlet, and where was a rude seat hidden away

"I don't know that it's of any importance at all," he said calmly." I got to feeling rather ashamed of myself, is

all, and it seemed to me the only decent thing was to tell you so. I'm not making any bid for your favorI

don't know that I want it. I don't care much about girls, one way or the other. But, for all I've got the name of

being several thingsa savage among the restI don't like to feel such a brute as to make war on a girl that

He tardily lighted his cigarette and sat smoking beside her, the tiny glow lighting his face briefly now and

"When I was joshing you there before supper," he went on, speaking low that he might not be

overheardand ridiculedfrom the house, "I didn't know the whole outfit was making a practice of doing

the same thing. I hadn't heard about the dead tarantula on your pillow, or the rattler coiled up on the porch, or

any of those innocent little jokes. But if the rest are making it their business to devil the life out of you,

whycommon humanity forces me to apologize and tell you I'm out of it from now on."

"Oh! Thank you very much." Evadna's tone might be considered ironical. "I suppose I ought to say that your

"Not at all." Grant interrupted her. "Go right ahead and hate me, if you feel that way. It won't matter to

megirls never did concern me much, one way or the other. I never was susceptible to beauty, and that

"Sounds queer, does it? But it's the truth, and so what's the use of lying, just to be polite? I won't torment you

any more; and if the boys rig up too strong a josh, I'm liable to give you a hint beforehand. I'm willing to do

thatmy sympathies are always with the under dog, anyway, and they're five to one. But that needn't mean

that I'mthat I" He groped for words that would not make his meaning too bald; not even Grant could

quite bring himself to warn a girl against believing him a victim of her fascinations.

"You needn't stutter. I'm not really stupid. You don't like me any better than I like you. I can see that. We're

to be as decent as possible to each otheryou from 'common humanity,' and I because I promised Aunt

"Weel!that's about it, I guess." Grant eyed her sidelong." Only I wouldn't go so far as to say I actually

dislike you. I never did dislike a girl, that I remember. I never thought enough about them, one way or the

other." He seemed rather fond of that statement, he repeated it so often." The life I live doesn't call for girls.

Put that's neither here nor there. What I wanted to say was, that I won't bother you any more. I wouldn't have

said a word to you tonight, if you hadn't walked right up to me and started to dig into me. Of course, I had to

"Oh, I know." Evadna's tone was resentful. "From Adam down to you, it has always been 'The woman, she

tempted me.' You're perfectly horrid, even if you have apologized. 'The woman, she tempted me,' and "

"I beg your pardon; the woman didn't," he corrected blandly. "The woman insisted on scrapping. That's

"Oh, it's different! I see. I have almost forgotten something I ought to say, Mr. Imsen. I must thank you

"I didn't. Nobody was attacking you, so I couldn't very well defend you, could I? I had to take a fall out of old

Peppajee, just on principle. I don't get along very well with my noble red cousins. I wasn't doing it on your

"Oh, I see." She rose rather suddenly from the bench. "It wasn't even common humanity, then"

"Not even common humanity," he echoed affirmatively. "Just a chance I couldn't afford to pass up, of digging

"That's different." She laughed shortly and left him, running swiftly through the warm dusk to the murmur of

Grant sat where she left him, and smoked two cigarettes meditatively before he thought of returning to the

house. When he finally did get upon his feet, he stretched his arms high above his head, and stared for a

"Girls must play the very deuce with a man if he ever lets them get on his mind," he mused. "I see right now

where a fellow about my size and complexion had better watch out." But he smiled afterward, as if he did not

At midnight, the Peaceful Hart ranch lay broodily quiet under its rockrimmed bluff. Down in tho stable the

saddlehorses were but formless blots upon the rumpled bedding in their stallsexcept Huckleberry, the

friendly little pinto with the white eyelashes and the blue eyes, and the great, livercolored patches upon his

sides, and the appetite which demanded food at unseasonable hours, who was now munching and nosing

industriously in the depths of his manger, and making a good deal of noise about it.

Outside, one of the milch cows drew a long, sighing breath of content with life, lifted a cud in mysterious,

bovine manner, and chewed dreamily. Somewhere up the bluff a bobcat squalled among the rocks, and the

moon, in its dissipated season of late rising, lifted itself indolently up to where it could peer down upon the

In the grove where the tiny creek gurgled under the little stone bridge, someone was snoring rhythmically in

~his blankets, for the boys had taken to sleeping in the open air before the earliest rose had opened buds in

the sunny shelter of the porch. Three feet away, a sleeper stirred restlessly, lifted his head from the pillow,

and slapped halfheartedly at an early mosquito that was humming in his ear. He reached out, and jogged the

"Say, Gene, if you've got to sleep at the top of your voice, you better drag your bed down into the orchard,"

"Ah, shut up and let a fellow sleep!" mumbled Gene, snuggling the covers up to his ears.

"Just what I want YOU to do. You snore like a sawmill. Darn it, you've got to get out of the grove if yuh

"AhhEEEE!" wailed a voice somewhere among the trees, the sound rising weirdly to a subdued

crescendo, clinging there until one's flesh went creepy, and then sliding mournfully down to silence.

"What's that?" The two jerked themselves to a sitting position, and stared into the blackness of the grove.

"In a pig's ear," flouted Gene, under his breath. He leaned far over and poked his finger into a muffled form.

Grant sat up instantly. "What's tho matter?" he demanded, rather illnaturedly, if the truth be told.

The cry itself finished the sentence for him. It came from nowhere, it would seem, since they could see

nothing; rose slowly to a subdued shriek, clung there nervewrackingly, and then wailed mournfully down to

silence. Afterward, while their ears were still strained to the sound, the bobcat squalled an answer from

"Yes, I heard it," said Grant. "It's a spook. It's the wail of a lost spirit, loosed temporarily from the horrors of

purgatory. It's sent as a warning to repent you of your sins, and it's howling because it hates to go back. What

He made his own intention plain beyond any possibility of misunderstanding. He lay down and pulled the

blanket over his shoulders, cuddled his pillow under his head, and disposed himself to sleep.

The moon climbed higher, and sent silvery splinters of light quivering down among the trees. A frog crawled

Again came the wailing cry, nearer than before, more subdued, and for that reason more eerily mournful.

Grant sat up, muttered to himself, and hastily pulled on some clothes. The frog cut himself short in the middle

of a deepthroated ARRRRUMPH and dove headlong into the pond; and the splash of his body cleaving

the still surface of the water made Gene shiver nervously. Grant reached under his pillow for something, and

"If that spook don't talk Indian when it's at home, I'm very much mistaken," he whispered to Clark, who was

Since they had no intention of doing anything else, they obeyed him implicitly and without argument,

especially as a flitting white figure appeared briefly and indistinctly in a shadowflecked patch of moonlight.

When he reached the place, the thing was not there. Instead, he glimpsed it farther on, and gave chase, taking

what precautions he could against betraying himself. Through the grove and the gate and across the road he

followed, in doubt half the time whether it was worth the trouble. Still, if it was what he suspected, a lesson

taught now would probably insure against future disturbances of the sort, he thought, and kept stubbornly on.

"I'll settle that mighty quick," he promised grimly, as he jumped a ditch and ran toward the place.

Somewhere among the currant bushes was a sound of eery laughter. He swerved toward the place, saw a

white form rise suddenly from the very ground, as it seemed, and lift an arm with a slow, beckoning gesture.

Without taking aim, he raised his gun and fired a shot at it. The arm dropped rather suddenly, and the white

form vanished. He hurried up to where it had stood, knelt, and felt of the soft earth. Without a doubt there

were footprints therehe could feel them. But he hadn't a match with him, and the place was in deep shade.

He stood up and listened, thought he heard a faint sound farther along, and ran. There was no use now in

Once more he caught sight of the white form fleeing from him like the very wraith it would have him believe

it. Then he lost it again; and when he reached the spot where it disappeared, he fell headlong, his feet tangled

in some white stuff. He swore audibly, picked himself up, and held the cloth where the moon shone full upon

it. It looked like a sheet, or something of the sort, and near one edge was a moist patch of red. He stared at it

dismayed, crumpled the cloth into a compact bundle, tucked it under his arm, and ran on, his ears strained to

"Well, anyhow, I didn't kill him," he muttered uneasily as he crawled through a fence into the orchard. "He's

In the orchard the patches of moonlight were larger, and across one of them he glimpsed a dark object,

running wearily. Grant repressed an impulse to shout, and used the breath for an extra burst of speed. The

ghost was making for the fence again, as if it would double upon its trail and reach some previously chosen

refuge. Grant turned and ran also toward the fence, guessing shrewdly that the fugitive would head for the

place where the wire could be spread about, and a beaten trail led from there straight out to the road which

passed the house. It was the short cut from the peach orchard; and it occurred to him that this particular spook

seemed perfectly familiar with the byways of the ranch. Near the fence he made a discovery that startled him

"It's a squaw, by Jove!" he cried when he caught an unmistakable flicker of skirts; and the next moment he

could have laughed aloud if he had not been winded from the chase. The figure reached the fence before him,

and in the dim light he could see it stoop to pass through. Then it seemed as if the barbs had caught in its

clothing and held it there. It struggled to free itself; and in the next minute he rushed up and clutched it fast.

"Why don't you float over the treetops?" he panted ironically. "Ghosts have no business getting their spirit

It answered with a little exclamation, with a sob following close upon it. There was a sound of tearing cloth,

and he held his captive upright, and with a merciless hand turned her face so that the moonlight struck it full.

She wriggled her chin in his palm, trying to free herself from his pitiless staring. Failing that, she began to

"Youshot me, you brute!" she cried accusingly at last. "YouSHOT me!" And she sobbed again.

Before he answered, he drew backward a step or two, sat down upon the edge of a rock which had rolled out

from a stoneheap, and pulled her down beside him, still holding her fast, as if he half believed her capable

"Yes, you did! You nearly broke my armand you might have killed me, you big brute! Look what you

didand I never harmed you at all!" She pushed up a sleeve, and held out her arm accusingly in the

moonlight, disclosing a tiny, red furrow where the skin was broken and still bleeding. "And you shot a big

He caught her arm, bent his head over itand for a moment he was perilously near to kissing it; an impulse

which astonished him considerably, and angered him more. He dropped the arm rather precipitately; and she

"I'd like to know what right you have to prowl around shooting at people," she scolded, seeing how close she

could come to touching the place with her fingertips without producing any but a pleasurable pain.

"Just as much right as you have to get up in the middle of the night and go ahowling all over the ranch

"Well, if I want to do it, I don't see why you need concern yourself about it. I wasn't doing it for your benefit,

An impish smile quite obliterated the Christmasangel look for an instant, then vanished, and left her a

"Well, I wanted to scare Gene," she confessed. "I did, too. I just know he's a cowardycat, because he's

always trying to scare ME. It's Gene's faulthe told me the grove is haunted. He said a long time ago, before

Uncle Hart settled here, a lot of Indians waylaid a wagontrain here and killed a girl, and he says that when

the moon is just past the full, something white walks through the grove and wails like a lost soul in torment.

He says sometimes it comes and moans at the corner of the house where my room is. I just know he was

going to do it himself; but I guess he forgot. So I thought I'd see if he believed his own yarns. I was going to

do it every night till I scared him into sleeping in the house. I had a perfectly lovely place to disappear into,

where he couldn't trace me if he took to hunting aroundonly he wouldn't dare." She pulled down her sleeve

very carefully, and then, just as carefully, she pushed it up again, and took another look.

"My best friend TOLD me I'd get shot if I came to Idaho," she reminded herself, with a melancholy

"You didn't get shot," Grant contradicted for the sake of drawing more sparks of temper where temper

seemed quaintly out of place, and stared hard at her drooping profile. "You just got nicely missed; a bullet

that only scrapes off a little skin can't be said to hit. I'd hate to hit a bear like that."

"I believe you're wishing you HAD killed me! You might at least have some conscience in the matter, and be

sorry you shot a lady. But you're not. You just wish you had murdered me. You hate girlsyou said so. And

I don't know what business it is of yours, if I want to play a joke on my cousin, or why you had to be sleeping

outside, anyway. I've a perfect right to be a ghost if I chooseand I don't call it nice, or polite, or

gentlemanly for you to chase me all over the place with a gun, trying to kill me! I'll never speak to you again

as long as I live. When I say that I mean it. I never liked you from the very start, when I first saw you this

afternoon. Now I hate and despise you. I suppose I oughtn't to expect you to apologize or be sorry because

you almost killed me. I suppose that's just your real nature coming to the surface. Indians love to hurt and

torture people! I shouldn't have expected anything else of you, I suppose. I made the mistake of treating you

"Don't you think you're making another mistake right now?" Grant's whole attitude changed, as well as his

tone. "Aren't you afraid to push the white man down into the dirt, and raise upthe INDIAN?"

She cast a swift, halffrightened glance up into his face and the eyes that glowed ominously in the moonlight.

"When people make the blunder of calling up the Indian," he went on steadily, "they usually find that they

Evadna looked at him again, and turned slowly white before her temper surged to the surface again.

"I didn't call up the Indian," she defended hotly; "but if the Indian wants to deal with me according to his

naturewhy, let him! But you don't ACT like other people! I don't know another man who wouldn't have

been horrified at shooting me, even such a tiny little bit; but you don't care at all. You never even said you

"You were quick enough to apologize, after supper there, when you hadn't really done anything; and now,

when one would expect you to be at least decently sorry, youyouwell, you act like the savage you are!

Grant smiled bitterly. "All men are savages under the skin," he said. "How do YOU know what I think and

feel? If I fail to come through with the conventional patter, I am called an Indianbecause my mother was a

halfbreed." He threw up his head proudly, let his eyes rest for a moment upon the moon, swimming through

a white river of clouds just over the tall poplar hedge planted long ago to shelter the orchard from the

sweeping west winds; and, when he looked down at her again, he caught a glimpse of repentant tears in her

"Oh, you're a girl, and you demand the usual amount of poorpussy talk," he told her maliciously. "So I'm

sorry. I'm heartbroken. If it will help any, I'll even kiss the hurt to make it welland I'm not a kissing young

"I'd die before I'd let you touch me!" Her repentance, if it was that, changed to pure rage. She snatched the

torn sheet from him and turned abruptly toward the fence. He followed her, apparently unmoved by her

attitude; placed his foot upon the lower wire and pressed it into the soft earth, lifted the one next above it as

high as it would go, and thus made it easier for her to pass through. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, as

though tempted to reject even that slight favor, then stooped, and went through.

"Maybe I've been meanbut you're been meaner," she summed up, in selfjustification. "I suppose the next

thing you will do will be to tell the boys. Well, I don't care what you do, so long as you never speak to me

again. Go and tell them if you want totell. TELL, do you hear ? I don't want even the favor of your

silence!" She dexterously tucked the bundle of white under the uninjured arm, caught the loose folds of her

skirt up in her hands, and ran away up the path, not once stopping to see whether he still followed her.

Grant did not follow. He stood leaning against the fencepost, and watched her until her flying form grew

indistinct in the shade of the poplar hedge; watched it reappear in a broad strip of white moonlight, still

running; saw it turn, slacken speed to a walk, and then lose itself in the darkness of the grove.

Five minutes, ten minutes, he stood there, staring across the level bit of valley lying quiet at the foot of the

jaggedrimmed bluff standing boldly up against the starflecked sky. Then he shook himself impatiently,

muttered something which had to do with a "doddering fool," and retraced his steps quickly through tho

orchard, the currant bushes, and the strawberry patch, jumped the ditch, and so entered the grove and returned

"We thought the spook had got yuh, sure." Gene lifted his head turtlewise and laughed deprecatingly. "We

was just about ready to start out after the corpse, only we didn't know but what you might get excited and

take a shot at us in the dark. We heard yuh shootwhat was it? Did you find out?"

"Ahthere was, too! What was it you shot at?" Clark joined in the argument from the blackness under the

"The moon," Grant told him sullenly. "There wasn't anything else that I could see."

"And that's a lie," Gene amended, with the frankness of a fosterbrother. "Something yelled like"

"You never heard a screechowl before, did you, Gene?" Grant crept between his blankets and snuggled

"Screechowl my granny! You bumped into something you couldn't handleif you want to know what _I_

think about it," Clark guessed shrewdly. "I wish now I'd taken the trouble to hunt the thing down; it didn't

seem worth while getting up. But I leave it to Gene if you ain't mad enough to murder whatever it was. What

"Well, keep your teeth shut down on it, then, darn yuh!" he growled. "That's the Injun of itI know YOU!

Screechowlhuh! You said when you left it was an Indianand that's why we didn't take after it

ourselves. We don't want to get the whole bunch down on us like they are on youand if there was one

acting up around here, we knew blamed well it was on your account for what happened today. I guess you

found out, all right. I knew the minute you heaved in sight that you was just about as mad as you can

getand that's saying a whole lot. If it WAS an Indian, and you killed him, you better let us"

"Oh, for the lord's sake, WILL YOU SHUT UP!" Grant raised to an elbow, glared a moment, and lay down

The result proved the sort of fellow he was. Clark shut up without even trailing off into mumbling to himself,

"Where is the delightful Mr. Good Indian off to?" Evadna stopped drumming upon the gatepost and turned

toward the person she heard coming up behind her, who happened to be Gene. He stopped to light a match

upon the gate and put his cigarette to work before he answered her; and Evadna touched tentatively the wide,

blue ribbon wound round her arm and tied in a bow at her elbow, and eyed him guardedly.

"Straight up, he told me," Gene answered sourly. "He's sore over something that happened last night, and he

didn't seem to have any talk to give away this morning. He can go to the dickens, for all I care."

"WHAThappened last night?" Evadna wore her Christmasangel expression; and her tone was the sweet,

Gene hesitated. It seemed a sheer waste of opportunity to tell her the truth when she would believe a

falsehood just as readily; but, since the truth happened to be quite as improbable as a lie, he decided to speak

"There was a noise when the moon had just come updidn't you hear it? The ghost I told you about. Good

Injun went after it with a gun, and I guess they mixed, all right, and he got the worst of it. He was sure on the

"Well, you ask Clark, when you see him," Gene hinted darkly. "You just ask him what was in the grove last

night. Ask him what he HEARD." He moved closer, and laid his hand impressively upon her arm. Evadna

"No; butwas there REALLY something?" Evadna freed herself as unobtrusively as possible, and looked at

"You ask Clark. He'll tell youmaybe. Good Injun's scared clean off the ranchyou can see that for

yourself. He said he couldn't be hired to spend another night here. He thinks it's a bad sign. That's the Injun of

Evadna turned thoughtful. "And didn't he tell you what hethat is, if he found outyou said he went after

"He wouldn't say a blamed thing about it," Gene complained sincerely. "He said there wasn't anythinghe

"Oh!" Evadna gave a sigh of relief. "Well, I'm going to ask Clark what it wasI'm just crazy about ghost

stories, only I never would DARE leave the house after dark if there are funny noises and things, really. I

think you boys must be the bravest fellows, to sleep out therewithout even your mother with you!"

"Jack promised to take me up to Hartley today," she explained over her shoulder. "When I come back, you'll

show me just where it was, won't you, Gene? You don't suppose it would walk in the grove in the daytime, do

you? Because I'm awfully fond of the grove, and I do hope it will be polite enough to confine its

Gene did not make any reply. Indeed, he seemed wholly absorbed in staring after her and wondering just how

Evadna looked back, midway between the gate and the stable, and, when she saw him standing exactly as she

had left him, she waved her hand and smiled. She was still smiling when she came up to where Jack was

giving those last, tentative twitches and pats which prove whether a saddle is properly set and cinched; and

she would not say what it was that amused her. All the way up the grade, she smiled and grew thoughtful by

turns; and, when Jack mentioned the fact that Good Indian had gone off mad about something, she contented

Grant's horse dozed before the store, and Grant himself sat upon a bench in the narrow strip of shade on the

porch. Evadna, therefore, refused absolutely to dismount there, though her errand had been a postoffice

money order. Jack was already on the ground when she made known her decision; and she left him in the

middle of his expostulations and rode on to the depot. He followed disapprovingly afoot; and, when she

brought her horse to a stand, he helped her from the saddle, and took the bridle reins with an air of weary

"When you get ready to go home, you can come to the store," he said bluntly. "Huckleberry wouldn't stand

here if you hogtied him. Just remember that if you ever ride up here aloneit might save you a walk back.

And say," he added, with a return of his goodnatured grin, "it looks like you and Good Injun didn't get

acquainted yesterday. I thought I saw mum give him an introduction to youbut I guess I made a mistake.

"Oh, thank you, Jackbut it isn't necessary," chirped Evadna, and left him with the smile which he had come

Two squaws sat crosslegged on the ground in the shade of the little red depot; and them she passed by

hastily, her eyes upon them watchfully until she was well upon the platform and was being greeted joyfully

"My, my, but you're an angel of deliveranceand by rights you should have a pair of gauze wings, just to

complete the picture," she cried, leading her inside and pushing her into a beribboned wicker rocker. "I was

just getting desperate enough to haul in those squaws out there and see if I couldn't teach 'em whist or

something." She sat down and fingered her pompadour absently. "And that sure would have been

"Don't let me interrupt you," Evadna began primly. "I only came for a money orderAunt Phoebe's sending

"Never mind what you came for," Miss Georgie cut in decisively, and laughed. "The express agent is out.

You can't get your order till we've had a good talk and got each other tagged mentallyonly I've tagged you

"Nice, truthful Aunt Phoebe! I am, but I'm outofficially. I'm several things, my dear; but, for the sake of

my own dignity and selfrespect, I refuse to be more than one of them at a time. When I sell a ticket to

Shoshone, I'm the ticket agent, and nothing else. Telegrams, I'm the operator. At certain times I'm the express

She stopped and regarded her visitor with whimsical appraisement. "You'll wait till the agent returns, won't

you?" And added, with a grimace: "You won't be in the wayI'm not anything official right now. I'm a

neighbor, and this is my parloryou see, I planted you on that rug, with the books at your elbow, and that

geranium also; and you're in the rocker, so you're really and truly in my parlor. I'm over the line myself, and

you're calling on me. Sabe? That little desk by the safe is the express office, and you can see for yourself that

"Well, upon my word!" Evadna permitted herself that much emotional relief. Then she leaned her head

against the cherrycolored headrest tied to the chair with huge, cherrycolored bows, and took a deliberate

It was a small room, as rooms go. One corner was evidently the telegraph office, for it held a crude table,

with the instruments clicking spasmodically, form pads, letter files, and mysterious things which piqued her

curiosity. Over it was a railroad map and a makeshift bulletin board, which seemed to give the time of certain

trains. And smallpaned windows gave one sitting before tho instruments an unobstructed view up and down

the track. In the corner behind the door was a small safe, with door ajar, and a desk quite as small, with,

Under a small window opening upon the platform was another little table, with indications of occasional

ticketselling upon it. And in the end of the room where she sat were various little adornments"art"

calendars, a few books, fewer potted plants, a sewingbasket, and two rugs upon the floor, with a rocker for

each. Also there was a tiny, square table, with a pack of cards scattered over it.

"Exactly. You have it sized up correctly, my dear." Miss Georgie Howard nodded herhead three times, and

her eyes were mirthful." It's a game. I made it a game. I had to, in selfdefense. Otherwise" She waved a

hand conspicuous for its white plumpness and its fingers tapering beautifully to little, pink nails immaculately

kept. "I took at the job and the place just as it stands, without anything in the way of mitigation. Can you see

"Oh, yes. It's funif you make fun OF it. However, before we settle down for a real visit, I've a certain duty

to perform, if you will excuse my absence for a moment. Incidentally," she added, getting lazily out of the

Her absence was purely theoretical. She stepped off the rug, went to the "express office," and took a card

from the desk. When she had stood it upright behind the inkwell, Evadna read in large, irregular capitals:

Miss Georgie Howard paid no attention to the little giggle which went with the reading, but stepped across to

the ticket desk and to the telegraph table, and put similar cards on display. Then she came back to the rug,

plumped down in her rocker with a sigh of relief, and reached for a large, white boxthe five pounds of

"I never eat candy when I'm in the office," she observed soberly. "I consider it unprofessional. Help yourself

as liberally as your digestion will standand for Heaven's sake, gossip a little! Tell me all about that bunch

of nifty lads I see cavorting around the store occasionallyand especially about the polysyllabic gentleman

who seems to hang out at the Peaceful Hart ranch. I'm terribly taken with him. Heexcuse me, chicken.

There's a fellow down the line hollering his head off. Wait till I see what he wants."

Again she left the rug, stepped to the telegraph instrument, and fingered the key daintily until she had, with

the other hand, turned down the "out" card. Then she threw the switch, rattled an impatient reply, and waited,

listening to the rapid clicking of the sounder. Her eyes and her mouth hardened as she read.

"Cad!" she gritted under her breath. Her fingers were spiteful as they clicked the key in answer. She slammed

the current off, set up the "out" notice again, kicked the desk chair against the wall, and came back to the

"I think it must be perfectly fascinating to talk that way to persons miles off," said Evadna, eying the

chittering sounder with something approaching awe. "I watched your fingers, and tried to imagine what it was

Miss Georgie Howard laughed queerly. "No, I don't suppose you could," she murmured, and added, with a

swift glance at the other: "They said, 'You go to the devil.'" She held up the offending hand and regarded it

intently. "You wouldn't think it of them, would you? But they have to say things sometimesin

selfdefense. There are two or three fresh young men along the line that can't seem to take a hint unless you

She cast a malevolent look at the clicking instrument. "He's trying to square himself," she observed

carelessly. "But, unfortunately, I'm out. He seems on the verge of tears, poor thing."

She poked investigatingly among the chocolates, and finally selected a delectable morsel with epicurean care.

"You haven't told me about the polysyllabic young man," she reminded. "He has held my heart in bondage

since he said to Pete Hamilton yesterday in the storeah" She leaned and barely reached a slip of paper

which was lying upon a row of books. "I wrote it down so I wouldn't forget it," she explained parenthetically.

"He said to Pete, in the store, just after Pete had tried to say something funny with the usual lamentable

failureum'You are mentally incapable of recognizing the line of demarcation between legitimate

persiflage and objectionable familiarity.' Now, I want to know what sort of a man, under fifty and not a

college professor, wouldor couldsay that without studying it first. It sounded awfully impromptu and

"He's a perfectly horrid young man." Evadna leaned to help herself to more chocolates. "Hewell, just to

"Did he!" Miss Georgie eyed her measuringly between bites. "Tag him as being intelligent, a keen observer,

with the ability to express himself" She broke off, and turned her head ungraciously toward the sounder,

which seemed to be repeating something over and over with a good deal of insistence. "That's Shoshone

calling," she said, frowning attentively. "They've got an old crank up there in the officeI'd know his touch

among a millionand when he calls he means business. I'll have to speak up, I suppose." She sighed, tucked

a chocolate into her cheek, and went scowling to the table. "Can't the idiot see I'm out?" she complained

She threw the switch, rattled a reply, and then, as the sounder settled down to a steady

clickclicketyclickclick, she drew a pad toward her, pulled up the chair with her foot, sat down, and began

to write the message as it came chattering over the wire. When it was finished and the sounder quiet, her hand

awoke to life upon the key. She seemed to be repeating the message, word for word. When she was done, she

listened, got her answer, threw off the switch with a sweep of her thumb, and fumbled among the papers on

the table until she found an envelope. She addressed it with a hasty scrawl of her pencil, sealed it with a

vicious little spat of her hand, and then sat looking down upon it thoughtfully.

"I suppose I've got to deliver that immediately, at once, without delay," she said. "There's supposed to be an

answer. Chicken, some queer things happen in this business. Here's that weakeyed, hollowchested

Saunders, that seems to have just life enough to put in about ten hours a day reading 'The Duchess,' getting

cipher messages like the hero of a detective story. And sending them, too, by the way. We operators are not

supposed to think; but all the same" She got her receiptbook, filled rapidly a blank line, tucked it under

her arm, and went up and tapped Evadna lightly upon the head with the envelope. "Want to come along? Or

She was gone five; and she returned with a preoccupied air which lasted until she had disposed of three

"Chicken," she said then, quietly, "do you know anything about your uncle and his affairs?" And added

immediately: "The chances are ten to one you don't, and wouldn't if you lived there till you were gray?"

"I know he's perfectly lovely," Evadna asserted warmly. "And so is Aunt Phoebe."

"To be sure." Miss Georgie smiled indulgently. "I quite agree with you. And by the way, I met that

polysyllabic cowboy againand I discovered that, on the whole, my estimate was incorrect. He's

emphatically monosyllabic. I said sixteen nice things to him while I was waiting for Pete to wake up

Saunders; and he answered in words of one syllable; one word, of one syllable. I'm beginning to feel that I've

simply got to know that young man. There are deeps there which I am wild to explore. I never met any male

"That's just because he's part Indian," Evadna declared, with the positiveness of youth and inexperience. "It

isn't inscrutability, but stupidity. I simply can't bear him. He's brutal, and rude. He told metold me, mind

youthat he doesn't like women. He actually warned me against thinking his politenessif he ever is polite,

which I doubtmeans more than just common humanity. He said he didn't want me to misunderstand him

and think he liked me, because he doesn't. He's a perfect savage. I simply loathe him!"

"I'd certainly see that he repented, apologized, and vowed eternal devotion," smiled Miss Georgie. "That

"I don't want any revenge. I simply want nothing to do with him. I don't want to speak to him, even."

"He looks to me just like an Indian. He ought to wear a blanket, like the rest."

"Then you're no judge. His eyes are dark; but they aren't snaky, my dear. His hair is real wavy, did you

notice? And he has the dearest, firm mouth. I noticed it particularly, because I admire a man who's a man.

He's one. He'd fight and never give up, once he started. And I think"she spoke hesitatingly "I think he'd

loveand never give up; unless the loved one disappointed him in some way; and then he'd be strong

A shadow fell upon the platform outside the door, and Saunders appeared, sidling deprecatingly into the

room. He pulled off his black, slouched hat and tucked it under his arm, smoothed his lank, black hair, ran his

palm down over his lank, unshaven face with a smoothing gesture, and sidled over to the telegraph table.

"Here's the answer to that message," he said, in a limp tone, without any especial emphasis or inflection. "If

you ain't too busy, and could send it right offit's to go C.O.D. and make 'em repeat it, so as to be sure"

"Certainly, Mr. Saunders." Miss Georgie rose, the crisp, businesslike operator, and went to the table. She took

the sheet of paper from him with her finger tips, as if he were some repulsive creature whose touch would

send her shuddering, and glanced at the message. "Write it on the regular form," she said, and pushed a pad

and pencil toward him." I have to place it on file." Whereupon she turned her back upon him, and stood

staring down the railroad track through the smokegrimed window until a movement warned her that he was

"Very wellthat is all," she said, after she had counted the words twice. "Ohyou want to wait for the

She laid her fingers on the key and sent the message in a whirl of chittering little sounds, waited a moment

while the sounder spoke, paused, and then began a rapid clicking, which was the repeated message, and wrote

"Thereif it's correct, that's all," she told him in a tone of dismissal, and waited openly for him to go. Which

he did, after a sly glance at Evadna, a licking of pale lips, as if he would speak but lacked the courage, and a

He was no sooner over the threshold than she slammed the door shut, in spite of the heat. She walked to the

window, glanced down the track again, turned to the table, and restlessly arranged the form pads, sticking the

message upon the file. She said something under her breath, snapped the cover on the inkwell, sighed, patted

"Whenever that man comes in here," she observed impatiently, "I always feel as if I ought to clean house

after him. If ever there was a human toador snake, orugh! And what does he meansending

twentyword messages that don't make sense when you read them over, and getting others that are just a lot

of words jumbled together, hit or miss? I wishonly it's unprofessional to talk about itbut, just the same,

there's some nasty business brewing, and I know it. I feel guilty, almost, every time I send one of those cipher

"Maybe." Miss Georgie's tone, however, was extremely skeptical. "Only, so far as I can discover, there's

never been anything around here to detect. Nobody has been murdered, or robbed, or kidnapped that I ever

heard of. Pete Hamilton says not. AndI wonder, now, if Saunders could be watching somebody! Wouldn't

it be funny, if old Pete himself turned out to be a Jesse James brand of criminal? Can you imagine Pete doing

"He might want to," Evadna guessed shrewdly, "but it would be too much trouble."

"Besides," Miss Georgie went on speculating, "Saunders never does anything that anyone ever heard of.

Sweeps out the store, they saybut I'd hate to swear to that. _I_ never could catch it when it looked

sweptand brings the mail sack over here twice a day, and gets one to take back. And reads novels. Of

course, the man's half dead with consumption; but no one would object to that, if these queer wires hadn't

"Why don't you turn detective yourself and find out?" Plainly, Evadna was secretly laughing at her perturbed

"Thanks. I'm too many things already, and I haven't any false hair or dark lantern. And, by the way, I'm going

to have the day off, Sunday. Charlie Green is coming up to relieve me. Andcouldn't we do something?"

She glanced wearily around the little office. "Honest, I'd go crazy if I stayed here much longer without a play

spell. I want to get clear out, away from the thingwhere I can't even hear a train whistle."

"Then you shall come down to the ranch the minute you can get away, and we'll do something or go

somewhere. The boys said they'd take me fishingbut they only propose things so they can play jokes on

me, it seems to me. They'd make me fall in the river, or something, I just know. But if you'd like to go along,

"Chicken, we'll go. I ought to be ashamed to fish for an invitation the way I did, but I'm not. I haven't been

down to the Hart ranch yet; and I've heard enough about it to drive me crazy with the desire to see it. Your

Aunt Phoebe I've met, and fallen in love withthat's a matter of course. She told me to visit her just any

time, without waiting to be invited especially. Isn't she the dearest thing? Oh! that's a train order, I

She was busy then until the train came screeching down upon the station, paused there while the conductor

rushed in, got a thin slip of paper for himself and the engineer, and rushed out again. When the train

grumbled away from the platform and went its way, it left man standing there, a fishbasket slung from one

shoulder, a trout rod carefully wrapped in its case in his hand, a box which looked suspiciously like a case of

Miss Georgie barely glanced at him from under her lashes, and her shoulders indulged themselves in an

"How do you do, Mr. Baumberger?" she responded coolly, and very, very gently pushed the door shut just as

BaumbergerJohannes was the name he answered to when any of his family called, though to the rest of the

world he was simply Baumbergerwas what he himself called a true sport. Women, he maintained, were

very much like trout; and so, when this particular woman calmly turned her back upon the smile cast at her,

he did not linger there angling uselessly, but betook himself to the store, where his worldly position, rather

than his charming personality, might be counted upon to bring him his meed of appreciation.

Good Indian and Jack, sitting side by side upon the porch and saying very little, he passed by with a careless

nod, as being not worth his attention. Saunders, glancing up from the absorbing last chapter of "The

Brokenhearted Bride," also received a nod, and returned it apathetically. Pete Hamilton, however, got a

flabby handshake, a wheezy laugh, and the announcement that he was down from Shoshone for a good, gamy

"And I don't go back till I get himnot if I stay here a week," he declared, with jocular savagery. "Took half

my leader and my pet flyI got him with a peacockbodied gray hackle that I revised to suit my own

notionsand, by the great immortal Jehosaphat, he looked like a whale when he jumped up clear of tho

riffle, turned over, and" His flabby, white hand made a soaring movement to indicate the manner in which

"Better take a day off and go with me, Pete," he suggested, getting an unwieldylooking pipe from the pocket

of his canvas fishingcoat, and opening his eyes at a troutfly snagged in the mouthpiece. "Now, how did

that fly come there?" he asked aggrievedly, while he released it daintily for all his fingers looked so fat and

awkward. He stuck the pipe in the corner of his mouth, and held up the fly with that interest which seems

"Last time I used that fly was when I was down here three weeks agothe day I lost the big one. Ain't it a

beauty, eh? Tied it myself. And, by the great immortal Jehosaphat, it fetches me the rainbows, too. Good

mind to try it on the big one. Don't see how I didn't miss it out of my bookI must be getting

absentminded. Sign of old age, that. Failing powers and the like." He shook his head reprovingly and

grinned, as if he considered the idea something of a joke. "Have to buck upa lawyer can't afford to grow

absentminded. He's liable to wake up some day and find himself without his practice."

He got his flybook from the basket swinging at his left hip, opened it, turned the leaves with the caressing

touch one gives to a cherished thing, and very carefully placed the fly upon the page where it belonged; gazed

gloatingly down at the tiny, tufted hooks, with their fraillooking five inches of gut leader, and then returned

"Think I'll go on down to the Harts'," he said, "so as to be that much closer to the stream. Daylight is going to

find me whipping the riffles, Peter. You won't come along? You better. Plenty ofahsnake medicine," he

hinted, chuckling so that the whole, deep chest of him vibrated. "No? Well, you can let me have a horse, I

supposethat cowbacked sorrel will dohe's gentle, I know. I think I'll go out and beg an invitation from

He went out upon the porch, laid a hand upon Jack's shoulder, and beamed down upon him with what would

have passed easily for real affection while he announced that he was going to beg supper and a bed at the

ranch, and wanted to know, as a solicitous afterthought, if Jack's mother had company, or anything that

"Nobody's thereand, if there was, it wouldn't matter," Jack assured him carelessly. "Go on down, if you

"One thing I like about fishing down here," chuckled Baumberger, his fat fingers still resting lightly upon

Jack's shoulder, "is the pleasure of eating my fish at your house. There ain't another man, woman, or child in

all Idaho can fry trout like your mother. You needn't tell her I said sobut it's a fact, just the same. She sure

He turned and called in to Pete, to know if he might have the sorrel saddled right away. Since Pete looked

upon Baumberger with something of the awed admiration which he would bestow upon the President, he felt

convinced that his horses were to be congratulated that any one of them found favor in his eyes.

Pete, therefore, came as near to roaring at Saunders as his good nature and his laziness would permit, and

waited in the doorway until Saunders had, with visible reluctance, laid down his book and started toward the

"Needn't bother to bring the horse down here, my man," Baumberger called after him. "I'll get him at the

stable and start from there. Well, wish me luck, Peteand say! I'll expect you to make a day of it with me

Sunday. No excuses, now. I'm going to stay over that long, anyhow. Promised myself three good

daysmaybe more. A man's got to break away from his work once in a while. If I didn't, life wouldn't be

worth living. I'm willing to grindbut I've got to have my playtime, too. Say, I want you to try this rod of

mine Sunday. You'll want one like it yourself, if I'm any good at guessing. Just got it, you knowit's the one

"WellI reckon my means of conveyance is ready for meso long, Peter, till Sunday. See you at supper,

He hooked a thumb under the shoulderstrap of his basket, pulled it to a more comfortable position, waved

his hand in a farewell, which included every living thing within sight of him, and went away up the narrow,

winding trail through the sagebrush to the stable, humming something under his breath with the same impulse

Some time later, he appeared, in the same jovial mood, at the Hart ranch, and found there the welcome which

When Evadna and Jack rode up, they found Mr. Baumberger taking his ease in Peaceful's armchair on the

porch, discussing, with animated gravity, the ins and outs of county politics; his fishingbasket lying on its

flat side close to his chair, his rod leaning against the house at his elbow, his heavy pipe dragging down one

corner of his looselipped mouth; his whole gross person surrounded by an atmosphere of prosperity leading

the simple life transiently and by choice, and of lazy enjoyment in his own physical and mental wellbeing.

Peppajee Jim had meditated long in the shade of his wikiup, and now, when the sun changed from a glaring

ball of intense, yellow heat to a sullen red disk hanging low over the bluffs of Snake River, he rose, carefully

knocked the ashes from his little stone pipe, with one mechanical movement of his arms, gathered his blanket

around him, pushed a toofamiliar dog from him with a shove of moccasined foot, and stalked away through

On the brow of the hill, just where the faint footpath dipped into a narrow gully at the very edge, almost, of

the bluff, he stopped, and lifted his head for an unconsciously haughty stare at his surroundings.

Beneath him and half a mile or so up the river valley, the mellow green of Peaceful's orchard was already

taking to itself the vagueness of evening shadows. Nearer, the meadow of alfalfa and clover lay like a soft,

green carpet of velvet, lined here and there with the irrigation ditches which kept it so. And in the center of

the meadow, a small inclosure marked grimly the spot where lay the bones of old John Imsen. All around the

manmade oasis of orchards and meadows, the sage and the sand, pushed from the river by the jumble of

placer pits, emphasized by sharp contrast what man may do with the most unpromising parts of the earth's

With the deliberation of his race, Peppajee stood long minutes motionless, gazing into the valley before ho

turned with a true Indian shrug and went down into the gully, up the steep slope beyond, and then, after

picking his way through a jumble of great bowlders, came out eventually into the dustridden trail of the

white man. Down that he walked, erect, swift, purposeful, his moccasins falling always with the precision of

a wild animal upon the best footing among the loose rocks, stubs of sageroots, or patches of deep dust and

sand beside the wagonroad, his sharp, highfeatured face set in the stony calm which may hide a tumult of

Where the trail curved out sharply to round the Point o' Rocks, he left it, and kept straight on through the

sage, entered a rough pass through the huge rock tongue, and came out presently to the trail again, a scant two

hundred yards from the Hart haystacks. When he reached the stable, he stopped and looked warily about him,

but there was no sight or sound of any there save animals, and he went on silently to the house, his shadow

stretching long upon the ground before him until it merged into the shade of the grove beyond the gate, and

Peppajee grunted, stopped in the path two paces from the porch, folded his arms inside his blanket, and stood

so while his eyes traveled slowly and keenly around the group lounging at ease above him. Upon the bulky

figure of Baumberger they dwelt longest, and while he looked his face hardened until nothing seemed alive

"Peppajee, this my friend, Mr. Baumberger. You heap sabe Baumbergercome all time from Shoshone,

mebbyso catchum heap many fish." Peaceful's mild, blue eyes twinkled over his old meerschaum. He knew

the ways of Indians, and more particularly he knew the ways of Peppajee; Baumberger, he guessed shrewdly,

"Huh!" grunted Peppajee noncommitally, and made no motion to shake hands, thereby confirming

Peaceful's suspicion. "Me heap sabe Manthatcatchumfish." After which he stood as before, his arms

folded tightly in his blanket, his chin lifted haughtily, his mouth a straight, stern line of bronze.

"Sit down, Peppajee. Bimeby eat supper," Peaceful invited pacifically, while Baumberger chuckled at the

"Bothered much with Injuns?" Baumberger asked carelessly, putting away his pipe. "I see there's quite a

camp of 'em up on the hill. Hope you've got good watchdogsthey're a thieving lot. If they're a nuisance,

Hart, I'll see what can be done about slapping 'em back on their reservation, where they belong. I happen to

"I guess you needn't go to any trouble about it," Peaceful returned dryly. "I've had worse neighbors."

"Ohif you're stuck on their company!" laughed Baumberger wheezily. "'Every fellow to his taste, as the

old woman said when she kissed her cow.' There may be good ones among the lot," he conceded politely

when he saw that his timeworn joke had met with disfavor, even by the boys, who couldand usually

didlaugh at almost anything. "They all look alike to me, I must admit; I never had any truck with 'em."

"No, I guess not," Peaceful agreed in his slow way, holding his pipe three inches from his face while he eyed

Peppajee quizzically. "Don't pay to have any truck with 'em while you feel that way about it." He smoothed

down his snowwhite beard with his free hand, pushed the pipestem between his teeth, and went on

"Say, you'll queer yourself good and plenty, if you keep on," Wally interrupted bluntly. "Peppajee's ears

Neither Peppajee nor Baumberger made reply of any sort, and Peaceful turned his mild eyes reproachfully

toward his untactful son. But the supper summons clanged insistently from the iron triangle on the back porch

and saved the situation from becoming too awkward. Even Baumberger let his tilted chair down upon its four

legs with a haste for which his appetite was not alone responsible, and followed the boys into the house as if

"Better come and eat, Peppajee," Peaceful lingered upon the porch to urge hospitably. "You no get mad. You

"No!" Peppajee jerked the word out with unmistakable finality. "No eat. Bimeby mebbyso makum big talk

Peaceful studied his face, found it stern and unyielding, and nodded assent. "All right. I eat, then I talk with

you." He turned somewhat reluctantly and followed the others inside, leaving Peppajee to pass the time away

Peppajee stood still for a moment listening to the clatter of dishes from the kitchen, and then with dignity end

deliberation seated himself upon the lowest step of the porch, and, pulling his blanket tight around him,

resettled his disreputable old sombrero upon his head and stared fixedly at the crimson glow which filled all

the west and made even the rugged bluff a wonderful thing of soft, rose tints and shadows of royal purple.

Peaceful, coming out half an hour after with Baumberger at his heels, found him so and made a movement to

sit down beside him. But Peppajee rose and stalked majestically to the gate, then turned and confronted the

"All right, Jim." Peaceful turned apologetically toward his guest. "Something he wants to tell me,

"Now don't mind me at all," Baumberger protested generously. "Go ahead just as if I wasn't herethat's

what'll please me best. I hope I ain't so much of a stranger you've got to stand on ceremony. Go on, and find

out what the old buck wants; he's got something on his mind, that's sure. Been stealing fruit, maybe, and

wants to square himself before you catch him at it." He laughed his laziest, and began leisurely to fill his

Peppajee led the way to the stable, where he stopped short and faced Peaceful, his arms folded, one foot

thrust forward in the pose he affected when about to speak of matters important.

"Long time ago, when yo' hair black," he began deliberately, with a sonorous lingering upon his vowels, "yo'

all time my frien'. I yo' frien' all same. Yo' no likum otha white man. Yo' all time bueno. Yo' house all same

my wikiup. Me come eat at yo' house, talk yo' all same brotha. Yo' boys all same my boysall time my

"No," Peaceful assented unhesitatingly, "you no tell lies, Peppajee. We good friends, many years."

"Huh! Manthatcatchumfish, him no yo' frien'. Shontisham. All time him speakum liestellum frien'

yo', no frien'. Yo' no more tellum stop yo' wikiup. Kay bueno. Yo' thinkum frien'. All time him have bad heart

for yo'. Yo' got ranch. Got plenty hay, plenty apple, plenty all thing for eat. All time him think bad for yo'. All

Peaceful laughed indulgently. "You no sabe," he explained. "Him like my ranch. Him say, long time ago, pay

much money for my ranch. Me no sellme like for keep all time. Baumberger good man. Him no steal my

ranch. Me got one paper from government you sabe?one paper say ranch all time b'longum me all same.

Big white chief say ranch b'longum me all time. I die, ranch b'longum my boys. You sabe?"

Peppajee considered. "Me sabe," he said at length. "Me sabe paper, sabe ranch all time b'longum yo'. All

same, him like for ketchum yo' ranch. Me hear much talk, him talk Manthatcoughs, tellum him ketchum

ranch. Much white man come, so" He lifted one hand with thumb and fingers outspread, made a

Peaceful shook his head while he smiled. "No can do that. Mebbyso much men come, heap fight, mebbyso

killum me, ranch all same b'longum my boys. Men that fights go to jail, mebbyso hangum." He indicated by

Peppajee scowled, and shook his head stubbornly. "Me heap sabe. All same, ketchum yo' ranch.

Manthatcatchumfish kay bueno. Yo' thinkum frien', yo' damfool. Him all same rattlesnake. Plenty foolum

yo'. Yo' see. Yo' thinkum Peppajee Jim heap big fool. Peaceful Hart, him all time one heap big damfool. Him

ketchum yo' ranch. Yo' see." He stopped and stared hard at the dim bulk of the grove, whence came the faint

"Yo' be smart man," he added grimly, "yo' all same kickum dat mans off yo' ranch." For emphasis he thrust

out a foot vigorously in the direction of the house and the man he maligned, and turned his face toward camp.

Peaceful watched until the blanketed form merged into the dusk creeping over the valley, and when it

disappeared finally into the short cut through the sage, he shook his gray head in puzzlement over the absurd

Came midnight and moonlight together, and with them came also Good Indian riding somewhat sullenly

down the trail to the ranch. Sullen because of Evadna's attitude, which seemed to him permanently

antagonistic, and for very slight cause, and which made the ranch an unpleasant abiding place.

He decided that he would not stop at the ranch, but would go on up the valley to where one Abuer Hicks lived

by himself in a halfdugout, halfboard shack, and by mining a little where his land was untillable, and

farming a little where the soil took kindly to fruit and grasses, managed to exist without too great hardship.

The pension he received for having killed a few of his fellowmen at the behest of his government was

devoted solely to liquid relief from the monotony of his life, and welcome indeed was the man who brought

him a bottle of joy between times. Wherefore Good Indian had thoughtfully provided himself with a quart or

so and rode with his mind at ease so far as his welcome at the Hicks dwelling place was concerned.

Once again the Peaceful Hart ranch lay in brooding silence under the shadow of the bluff. A few crickets

chirped shrilly along the trail, and from their sudden hush as he drew near marked unerringly his passing.

Along the springfed creek the frogs croaked a tuneless medley before him, and, like the crickets, stopped

abruptly and waited in absolute silence to take up their night chant again behind him. His horse stepped softly

in the deep sand of the trail, and, when he found that his rider refused to let him stop at the stabledoor,

shook his head in mute displeasure, and went quietly on. As he neared the silent house, the faint creak of

saddleleather and the rattle of spurchains against his iron stirrups were smothered in the whispering of the

treetops in the grove, so that only the quick hushing of night noises alone betrayed him to any wakeful ear.

He was guilty of staring hard at that corner of the house where he knew Evadna slept, and of scowling over

the vague disquiet which the thought of her caused him. No girl had ever troubled his mind before. It annoyed

him that the face and voice of Evadna obtruded, even upon his thoughts of other things.

The grove was quiet, and he could hear Gene's unmistakable snore over by the pondthe only sound save

the whispering of the trees, which went on, unmindful of his approach. It was evident, he thought, that the

ghost was effectually laidand on the heels of that, as he rode out from the deep shade of the grove and on

past the garden to the meadows beyond, he wondered if, after all, it was again hardily wandering through the

night; for he thought he glimpsed a figure which flitted behind a huge rock a few rods in advance of him, and

He gave a twitch of his fingers upon the reins, and turned from the trail to investigate. He rode up to the rock,

which stood like an island of shade in that sea of soft moonlight, and, peering into the shadows, spoke a

A figure detached itself without sound from the blot of darkness there, and stood almost at his stirrup.

Good Indian was conscious of a distinct disappointment, though he kept it from his voice when he answered:

Peppajee held up a slim, brown hand for silence, and afterward rested it upon the saddlefork.

"Yo' heap frien' Peaceful. Me heap frien' all same. Mebbyso we talk. Yo' get down. No can see yo', mebbyso;

yo' no likum bad man for se" He stepped back a pace, and let Good Indian dismount; then with a gesture

Peppajee spoke more hastily than was usual. "Me watchum Manthatcatchumfish. Him heeeeap kay

"You mean Baumberger? He's all right. He comes down here to catchum many fishtrout, up in the Malad,

"Kay bueno." Peppajee rested a forefinger upon Good Indian's arm. "Sun up there," he pointed high in the

west. "Me go all same Hartley. Come stablePete stableme walkum closeno makum noise. Me hear

talk. Stoppumno can seeme hear much bad talk. All time me hear, heap likum for steal dis ranch. Me no

sabe"his tone was doubtful for a space"all same, me hear stealum this ranch. Man, you callum"

"Him. All same Baumberga, him talk Manthatcoughs. All time say stealum ranch. Makum much bad talk,

them mans. Me come ranch, me tellum Peaceful, him all time laugh, me. All time shakum head. Mebbyso

"Me go camp. Me thinkum, thinkum all time. Dat man have bad heart. Kay bueno. No can sleepthinkum

mebbyso do bad for Peaceful. Come ranch, stop all time dark, all time heap watchum. Bimeby, mebbyso

manall same yo' callum Baumbergahim come, look, so" He indicated, by a great craning of neck in

all directions, the wariness of one who goes by stealth. "Him walk still all time, go all time ova there." He

swept his arm toward the meadows. "Me go still, for watchum. Yo' come, mebbyso make heap much

noisekay bueno. Dat mans, him hear, him heap scare. Me tellum, yo' mebbyso go still." He folded his arms

with a gesture of finality, and stood statuelike in the deep gloom beside the rock.

Good Indian fingered his horse's mane while he considered the queer story. There must be something in it, he

thought, to bring Peppajee from his blankets at midnight and to impel him, unfriendly as he usually seemed,

to confide his worry to him at once and without urging. And yet, to steal the Peaceful Hart ranchthe idea

was ludicrous. Still, there was no harm in looking around a bit. He sought a sagebrush that suited his purpose,

tied his horse to it, stooped, and took tho clanking Mexican spurs from his heels, and touched Peppajee on the

Without a word, Peppajee turned, and stole away toward the meadows, keeping always in the shadow of rock

or bush, silentfooted as a prowling bobcat. Close behind him, not quite so silent because of his ridingboots,

which would strike now and then upon a rock, however careful he was of his footing, went Good Indian.

So they circled the meadow, came into sand and sage beyond, sought there unavailingly, went on to the

orchard, and skirted it, keen of eye and ear, struck quietly through it, and came at last to the place where, the

night before, Grant had overtaken Evadnaand it surprised him not a little to feel his heart pounding

unreasonably against his ribs when he stopped beside the rock where they had sat and quarreled.

Peppajee looked back to see why Grant paused there, and then, wrapping his blanket tightly around him,

crawled through the fence, and went on, keeping to the broad belt of shade cast upon the ground by the row

of poplars. Where the shade stopped abruptly, and beyond lay white moonlight with the ranch buildings

blotching it here and there, he stopped and waited until Good Indian stood close beside him. Even then he did

not speak, but, freeing an arm slowly from the blanket folds, pointed toward the stable.

Grant looked, saw nothing, stared harder, and so; feeling sure there must be something hidden there,

presently believed that a bit of the shadow at that end which was next the corral wavered, stopped, and then

moved unmistakably. All the front of the stable was distinctly visible in the white light, and, while they

looked, something flitted across it, and disappeared among the sage beyond the trail.

Again they waited; two minutes, three minutes, five. Then another shadow detached itself slowly from the

shade of the stable, hesitated, walked out boldly, and crossed the white sand on the path to the house.

Baumberger it was, and he stopped midway to light his pipe, and so, puffing luxuriously, went on into the

They heard him step softly upon the porch, heard also the bovine sigh with which he settled himself in the

armchair there. They caught the aromatic odor of tobacco smoke ascending, and knew that his presence there

had all at once become the most innocent, the most natural thing in the world; for any man, waking on such a

night, needs no justification for smoking a nocturnal pipe upon the porch while he gazes dreamily out upon

Peppajee touched Grant's arm, and turned back, skirting the poplars again until they were well away from the

house, and there was no possibility of being heard. He stopped there, and confronted the other.

"What for you no stoppum stable?" he questioned bluntly. "What for you no stoppum ranch, for sleepum?"

"I go for stoppum Hicks' ranch," said Good Indian, without any attempt at equivocation.

Good Indian scorned a subterfuge, and spoke truly. "That girl, Evadna, no likum me. All time mad me. So I

Peppajee grinned briefly and understandingly, and nodded his head. "Me heap sabe. Yo' all time heap like for

catchum that girl, be yo' squaw. Bimeby that girl heap likum yo'. Me sabe." He stood a moment staring at the

stars peeping down from above the rimrock which guarded the bluff. "All same, yo' no go stoppum Hicks,"

he commanded. "Yo' stoppum dis ranch all time. Yo' all time watchum manyo' callum Baumberga." He

seemed to remember and speak the name with some difficulty. "Where him go, yo' go, for heap watchum. All

time mebbyso me watchum Manthatcoughs. Me no sabe catchum ranchall same, me watchum. Them

A moment he stood there after he was through speaking, and then he was not there. Good Indian did not hear

him go, though he had stood beside him; neither could he, catching sight of a wavering shadow, say

He waited for a space, stole back to where he could hear any sound from the porch even if he could not see,

and when he was certain that Baumberger had gone back to his bed, he got his horse, took him by a

roundabout way to the stable, and himself slept in a haystack. At least, he made himself a soft place beside

one, and lay there until the sun rose, and if he did not sleep it was not his fault, for he tried hard enough.

That is how Good Indian came to take his usual place at the breakfast table, and to touch elbows with Evadna

and to greet her with punctilious politeness and nothing more. That is why he got out his fishingtackle and

announced that he thought he would have a try at some trout himself, and so left the ranch not much behind

Baumberger. That is why he patiently whipped the Malad riffles until he came up with the portly lawyer from

Shoshone, and found him gleeful over a full basket and bubbling with innocent details of this gamy one and

that one still gamier. They rode home together, and together they spent the hot afternoon in the cool depths of

By sundown Good Indian was ready to call himself a fool and Peppajee Jim a meddlesome, visionary old

idiot. Steal the Peaceful Hart ranch? The more he thought of it, the more ridiculous the thing seemed.

Good Indian was young, which means that he was not always logical, nor much given to looking very far into

the future except as he was personally concerned in what he might see there. By the time Sunday brought

Miss Georgie Howard and the stir of preparation for the fishing trip, he forgot that he had taken upon himself

the responsibility of watching the obviously harmless movements of Baumberger, or had taken seriously the

warnings of Peppajee Jim; or if he did not forget, he at least pushed it far into the background of his mind

with the assertion that Peppajee was a meddlesome old fool and Baumberger no more designing than he

What did interest him that morning was the changeful mood of Evadna; though he kept his interest so well

hidden that no one suspected itnot even the young lady herself. It is possible that if Evadna had known that

Good Indian's attitude of calm oblivion to her moods was only a mask, she might have continued longer her

As it was, she thawed toward him as he held himself more aloof, until she actually came to the point of

addressing him directly, with a flicker of a smile for good measure; and, although he responded with stiff

civility, he felt his blood pulse faster, and suddenly conceived the idea that women are like the creatures of

the wild. If one is very quiet, and makes no advance whatever, the hunted thing comes closer and closer, and

then a sudden pouncehe caught his breath. After that he was wary and watchful and full of his purpose.

Within ten minutes Evadna walked into the trap. They had started, and were fifty yards up the trail, when

Phoebe shouted frantically after them. And because she was yet a timid rider and feared to keep the pace set

by the others, it was Evadna who heard and turned back to see what was the trouble. Aunt Phoebe was

"It's the cream for your coffee," she cried, going to meet Evadna. "You can slip it into your jacketpocket,

can't you, honey? Huckleberry is so steadyand you won't do any wild riding like the boys."

"I've got my veil and a box of bait and two handkerchiefs and a piece of soap," the girl complained, reaching

down for the bottle, nevertheless. "But I can carry it in my hand till I overtake somebody to give it to."

The somebody proved to be Good Indian, who had found it necessary to stop and inspect carefully the left

forefoot of his horse, without appearing aware of the girl's approach. She ambled up at Huckleberry's favorite

shuffling gait, struck him with her whipa blow which would not have perturbed a mosquitowhen he

showed a disposition to stop beside Grant, and then, when Huckleberry reluctantly resumed his pacing, pulled

him up, and looked back at the figure stooped over the hoof he held upon his knee. He was digging into the

caked dirt inside the hoof with his pocketknife, and, though Evadna waited while she might have spoken a

dozen words, he paid not the slightest attentionand that in spite of the distinct shadow of her head and

"OhGrant," she began perfunctorily, "I'm sorry to trouble youbut do you happen to have an empty

Good Indian gave a final scrape with his knife, and released the foot, which Keno immediately stamped

pettishly into the dust. He closed the knife, after wiping the blade upon his trousers leg, and returned it to his

"I may have. Why?" He picked up the bridlereins, caught the saddlehorn, and thrust his toe into the stirrup.

From under his hatbrim he saw that she was pinching her under lip between her teeth, and the sight raised

"Oh, nothing. Aunt Phoebe called me back, and gave me a bottle of cream, is all. I shall have to carry it in my

hand, I suppose." She twitched her shoulders, and started Huckleberry off again. She had called him Grant,

instead of the formal Mr. Imsen she had heretofore clung to, and he had not seemed to notice it even.

He mounted with perfectly maddening deliberation, but for all that he overtook her before she had gone

farther than a few rods, and he pulled up beside her with a decision which caused Huckleberry to stop also;

Huckleberry, it must be confessed, was never known to show any reluctance in that direction when his head

was turned away from home. He stood perfectly still while Good Indian reached out a hand.

"Oh, but if you must carry it in your hand, I wouldn't dream of" She was holding fast the bottle, and trying

Good Indian laid hold of the flask, and they stood there stubbornly eying each other.

Good Indian was not skilled in the management of women, but he knew horses, and to his decision he added

an amendment. Instinctively he followed the method taught him by experience, and when he fancied he saw

"Let gobecause I'm going to have it anyway, now," he said quietly, and took the flask gently from her

hands. Then he smiled at her for yielding, and his smile was a revelation to the girl, and brought the blood

surging up to her face. She rode meekly beside him at the pace he himself setwhich was not rapid, by any

means. He watched her with quick, sidelong glances, and wondered whether he would dare say what he

She was gazing with a good deal of perseverance at the trail, down the windings of which the others could be

seen now and then galloping through the dust, so that their progress was marked always by a smothering

cloud of gray. Then she looked at Grant unexpectedly, met one of his sharp glances, and flushed hotly again.

"How about this business of hating each other, and not speaking except to please Aunt Phoebe?" he

demanded, with a suddenness which startled himself. He had been thinking it, but he hadn't intended to say it

until the words spoke themselves. "Are we supposed to keep on acting the fool indefinitely?"

"I was not aware that I, at least, was acting the fool," she retorted, with a washedout primness.

"Oh, I can't fight the air, and I'm not going to try. What I've got to say, I prefer to say straight from the

shoulder. I'm sick of this standing off and giving each other the bad eye over nothing. If we're going to stay

For a time he thought she was not going to say anything. She was staring at the dustcloud ahead, and

chewing absently at the corner of her under lip, and she kept it up so long that Good Indian began to scowl

and call himself unseemly names for making any overture whatever. But, just as he turned toward her with

lips half opened for a bitter sentence, he saw a dimple appear in the cheek next to him, and held back the

"You told me you didn't like me," she reminded, looking at him briefly, and afterward fumbling her reins.

"I suppose you don't remember coming up to me that first night, and calling me names, and telling me how

you hated me, andand winding up by pinching me?" he insinuated with hypocritical reproach, and felt of

Evadna replied by pushing up her sleeve and displaying a scratch at least an inch in length, and still

roughened and red. "I suppose you don't remember trying to MURDER me?" she inquired, sweetly

triumphant. "If you could shoot as well as Jack, I'd have been killed very likely. And you'd be in jail this

"And I haven't told a living soul about itnot even Aunt Phoebe," Evadna remarked, still painfully virtuous.

"She'd have wondered, maybe, what you were doing away down there in the middle of the night," Good

They left the meadowland and the broad stretch of barren sand and sage, and followed, at a leisurely pace, the

winding of the trail through the scarred desolation where the earth had been washed for gold. Evadna stared

absently at the network of deep gashes, evidently meditating very seriously. Finally she turned to Grant with

"Well, I'm sure I'm willing to bury the tomahawkerthat is, I mean" She blushed hotly at the slip, and

"Never mind." His eyes laughed at her confusion. "I'm not as bad as all that; it doesn't hurt my feelings to

Her cheeks grew redder, if that were possible, but she made no attempt to finish what she had started to say.

Good Indian rode silent, watching her unobtrusively and wishing he knew how to bring the conversation by

the most undeviating path to a certain muchdesired conclusion. After all, she was not a wild thing, but a

human being, and he hesitated. In dealing with men, he had but one method, which was to go straight to the

point regardless of consequences. So he half turned in the saddle and rode with one foot free of the stirrup

"You say you're willing to bury the tomahawk; do you mean it?" His eyes sought hers, and when they met her

glance held it in spite of her blushes, which indeed puzzled him. But she did not answer immediately, and so

"Do you mean that? We've been digging into each other pretty industriously, and saying how we hate each

otherbut are you willing to drop it and be friends? It's for you to sayand you've got to say it now."

Evadna hung up her head at that. "Are you in the habit of laying down the law to everyone who will permit

"Am I to take it for granted you meant what you said?" He stuck stubbornly to the main issue. "Girls seem to

Good Indian muttered something profane, and kicked his horse in the ribs. When it had taken no more than

two leaps forward, however, he pulled it down to a walk again, and his eyes boded ill for the misguided

"This thing has got to be settled right now, without any more fooling or beating about the bush," he

saidand he said it so quietly that she could scarcely be blamed for not realizing what lay beneath. She was

beginning to recover her spirits and her composure, and her whole attitude had become demurely impish.

"Settle it then, why don't you?" she taunted sweetly. "I'm sure I haven't the faintest idea what there is to

settlein that solemn manner. I only know we're a mile behind the others, and Miss Georgie will be

If Evadna did not intend anything serious, she certainly was a fool not to read aright his ominously calm tone

and his tensely quiet manner. She must have had some experience in coquetry, but it is very likely that she

had never met a man just like this one. At all events, she tilted her blonde head, smiled at him daringly, and

then made a little grimace meant to signify her defiance of him and his unwarranted earnestness.

Good Indian leaned unexpectedly, caught her in his arms, and kissed her three times upon her teasing,

smiling mouth, and while she was gasping for words to voice her amazement he drew back his head, and

"You can't play with ME," he muttered savagely, and kissed her again. "This is how I settle it. You've made

me want you for mine. It's got to be love orhate now. There isn't anything between, for me and you." His

eyes passed hungrily from her quivering lips to her eyes, and the glow within his own made her breath come

faster. She struggled weakly to free herself, and his clasp only tightened jealously.

"If you had hated me, you wouldn't have stopped back there, and spoken to me," he said, the words coming in

a rush. "Women like to play with love, I think. But you can't play with me. I want you. And I'm going to have

you. Unless you hate me. But you don't. I'd stake my life on it." And he kissed her again.

Evadna reached up, felt for her hat, and began pulling it straight, and Good Indian, recalled to himself by the

action, released her with manifest reluctance. He felt then that he ought never to let her go out of his arms; it

was the only way, it seemed to him, that he could be sure of her. Evadna found words to express her thoughts,

and her thoughts were as wholly conventional as was the impulse to straighten her hat.

"We've only known each other a week!" she cried tremulously, while her gloved fingers felt inquiringly for

loosened hairpins. "You've no rightyou're perfectly horrid! You take everything for granted"

"A man's heart does not beat by the calendar. Nature made the heart to beat with love, ages before man

measured time, and prattled of hours and days and weeks," he retorted. "I'm not the same man I was a week

ago. Nor an hour ago. What does it matter ~ I amthe man I am NOW." He looked at her more calmly. "An

hour ago," he pointed out, "I didn't dream I should kiss you. Nor you, that you would let me do it."

"I didn't! I couldn't help myself. Youoh, I never saw such aa brute!" The tears in her eyes were, perhaps,

tears of rage at the swiftness with which he had mastered the situation and turned it in a breath from the safe

channel of petty argument. She struck Huckleberry a blow with her whip which sent that astonished animal

galloping down the slope before them, his ears laid back and his white eyelashes blinking resentment against

Good Indian laughed aloud, spurred Keno into a run, and passed her with a scurry of dust, a flash of white

teeth and laughing black eyes, and a wave of his free hand in adieu. He was still laughing when he overtook

the others, passed by the main group, and singled out Jack, his particular chum. He refused to explain either

his hurry or his mirth further than to fling out a vague sentence about a race, and thereafter he ambled

contentedly along beside Jack in the lead, and told how he had won a hundred and sixty dollars in a crap

game the last time he was in Shoshone, and how he had kept on until he had "quit ten dollars in the hole."

The rest of the boys, catching a few words here and there, crowded close, and left the two girls to themselves,

while Good Indian recounted in detail the fluctuations of the game; how he had seesawed for an hour,

winning and losing alternately; and how his luck had changed suddenly just when he had made up his mind

"I threw naturals three times in succession," he said, "and let my bets ride. Then I got Big Dick, made good,

and threw another natural. I was seeing those Spanish spurs and that peach of a headstall in Fernando's by

that time; seeing them on Keno and methey're in the window yet, Jack, and I went in when I first hit town

and looked them over and priced them; a hundred and fifty, just about what we guessed he'd hold them at.

And say, those conchosyou remember the size of 'em, Jack?they're solid silver, hammered out and

engraved by hand. Those Mexicans sure do turn out some fine work on their silver fixings!" He felt in his

"Pity I didn't let well enough alone," he went on. "I had the price of the outfit, and ten dollars over. But then I

got hoggish. I thought I stood a good chance of making seven lucky passes straightI did once, and I never

got over it, I guess. I was going to pinch down to tenbut I didn't; I let her ride. And SHOT CRAPS!"

He drew the match along the stamped saddleskirt behind the cantle, because that gave him a chance to steal

a look behind him without being caught in the act. Good, wide hatbrims have more uses than to shield one's

face from the sun. He saw that Evadna was riding in what looked like a sulky silence beside her friend, but he

felt no compunction for what he had done; instead he was exhilarated as with some heady wine, and he did

not want to do any thinking about ityet. He did not even want to be near Evadna. He faced to the front, and

lighted his cigarette while he listened to the sympathetic chorus from the boys.

"Well, I'd lost the whole blamed chunk on a pair of measly aces," he said. "I was pretty sore by that time, I'm

telling you! I was down to ten dollars, but I started right in to bring back that hundred and sixty. Funny, but I

felt exactly as if somebody had stolen that headstall and spurs right out of my hand, and I just had to get it

back pronto. I started in with a dollar, lost it on crapssixes, that timesent another one down the same

trail trying to make Little Joe come again, third went on craps, fourth I doubled on nine, lost 'em both on

crapssay, I never looked so many aces and sixes in the face in my life! It was sure kay bueno, the luck I

had that night. I got up broke, and had to strike Riley for money to get out of town with."

So for a time he managed to avoid facing squarely this new and very important factor which must henceforth

Three hundred yards up the river, in the shade of a huge bowlder, round an end of which the water hurried in

a green swirl that it might the sooner lie quiet in the deep, dark pool below, Good Indian, picking his solitary

way over the loose rocks, came unexpectedly upon Baumberger, his heavy pipe sagging a corner of his flabby

mouth, while he painstakingly detached a fly from his leader, hooked it into the proper compartment of his

flybook, and hesitated over his selection of another to take its place. Absorption was writ deep on his gross

countenance, and he recognized the intruder by the briefest of flickering glances and the slightest of nods.

"Keep back from that hole, will yuh?" he muttered, jerking his head toward the still pool. "I ain't tried it yet."

Good Indian was not particularly interested in his own fishing. The sight of Baumberger, bulking there in the

shade with his sagging cheeks and sagging pipe, his flopping old hat and baggy canvas fishingcoat, with his

battered basket slung over his slouching shoulder and sagging with the weight of his catch; the sloppy

wrinkles of his high, rubber boots shining blackly from recent immersion in the stream, caught his errant

Loosely disreputable looked Lawyer Baumberger, from the snagged hole in his hatcrown where a wisp of

graying hair fluttered through, to the toes of his ungainly, rubberclad feet; loosely disreputable, but not

commonplace and not incompetent. Though his speech might be a slovenly mumble, there was no

purposeless fumbling of the fingers that chose a fly and knotted it fast upon the leader. There was no

bungling movement of hand or foot when he laid his pipe upon the rock, tiptoed around the corner, sent a

mechanical glance upward toward the swaying branches of an overhanging tree, pulled out his six feet of silk

line with a sweep of his arm, and with a delicate fillip, sent the fly skittering over the glassy center of the

Good Indian, looking at him, felt instinctively that a part, at least, of the man's nature was nakedly revealed to

him then. It seemed scarcely fair to read the lust of him and the utter abandonment to the hazard of the game.

Pitiless he looked, with clenched teeth just showing between the loose lips drawn back in a grin that was

That was when a shimmering thing slithered up, snapped at the fly, and flashed away to the tune of singing

reel and the dance of the swaying rod. The man grew suddenly cruel and crafty and full of lust; and Good

Indian, watching him, was conscious of an inward shudder of repulsion. He had fished all his lifehad Good

Indianand had found joy in the sport. And here was he inwardly condemning a sportsman who stood

selfrevealed, repelling, hateful; a man who gloated over the struggle of something alive and at his mercy; to

whom sport meant power indulged with impunity. Good Indian did not try to put the thing in words, but he

At that moment Baumberger drew the tired fish gently into the shallows, swung him deftly upon the rocks,

"Ain't he a beaut?" he cried, in his wheezy chuckle. "Wait a minute while I weigh him. He'll go over a pound,

I'll bet money on it." Gloatingly he held it in his hands, removed the hook, and inserted under the gills the

"Pound and four ounces," he announced, and slid the fish into his basket. He was the ordinary, goodnatured,

gross Baumberger now. Ho reached for his pipe, placed it in his mouth, and held out a hand to Good Indian

"Say, young fella, have you got any standin with your noble red brothers?" he asked, after he had sucked

"Cousins twice or three times removed, you mean," said Good Indian coldly, too proud and too lately

"One of 'emnever mind placing him on his own p'ticular limb of the family treehas been doggin' me all

morning," he said at last, and waved a fishy hand toward the bluff which towered high above them. "Saw him

when I was comin' up, about sunrise, pokin' along behind me in the sagebrush. Didn't think anything of

thatthought maybe he was hunting or going fishingbut he's been sneakin' around behind me ever since. I

don't reckon he's after my scalpnot enough hair to paybut I'd like to know what the dickens he does

"Nothing probably," Good Indian told him shortly, his eyes nevertheless searching the rocks for a sight of the

"Well, I don't much like the idea," complained Baumberger, casting an eye aloft in fear of snagging his line

when he made another cast. "He was right up there a few minutes ago." He pointed his rod toward a

sunridden ridge above them. "I got a flicker of his green blanket when he raised up and scowled down at

me. He ducked when he saw me turn my headlooked to me like the surly buck that blew in to the ranch the

night I came; Jim somethingorother. By the great immortal Jehosaphat!" he swore humorously, "I'd like to

tie him up in his dirty blanket and heave him into the riveronly it would kill all the fish in the Malad."

"Oh, I know it's funny, young fella," Baumberger growled. "About as funny as being pestered by a mosquito

buzzing under your nose when you're playing a fish that keeps cuttin' figure eights in a hole the size uh that

"Well, I wish you would. I can't keep my mind on m' fishingjust wondering what the deuce he's after. And

say! You tell him I'll stand him on his off ear if I catch him doggie' me ag'in. Folks come with yuh?" he

"They're down there getting a campfire built, ready to fry what fish they catch," Good Indian informed him,

as he turned to climb the bluff. "They're going to eat dinner under that big ledge by the rapids. You better go

He stood for a minute, and watched Baumberger make a dexterous cast, which proved fruitless, before he

began climbing up the steep slope of jumbled bowlders upon which the bluff itself seemed to rest. He was not

particularly interested in his quest, but he was in the mood for purposeless action; he still did not want to

He climbed negligently, scattering loose rocks down the hill behind him. He had no expectation of coming

upon Peppajeeunless Peppajee deliberately put himself in his wayand so there was no need of caution.

He stopped once, and stood long minutes with his head turned to catch the faint sound of highkeyed

laughter and talk which drifted up to him. If he went higher, he thought, he might get a glimpse of themof

her, to tell his thought honestly. Whereupon he forgot all about finding and expostulating with Peppajee, and

To be sure, he might as easily have retraced his steps and joined the group, and seen every changing look in

her face. But he did not want to be near her when others were by; he wanted her to himself, or not at all. So

he went on, while the sun beat hotly down upon him and the rocks sent up dry waves of heat like an oven.

A rattlesnake buzzed its strident warning between two rocks, but before he turned his attention to the business

of killing it, the snake had crawled leisurely away into a cleft, where he could not reach it with the stones he

threw. His thoughts, however, were brought back to his surroundings so that he remembered Peppajee. He

stood still, and scanned carefully the jumble of rocks and bowlders which sloped steeply down to the river,

"But I could look my eyes out and welcome, if he didn't want to be seen," he concluded, and sat down while

he rolled a cigarette. "And I don't know as I want to see him, anyway." Still, he did not move immediately.

He was in the shade, which was a matter for congratulation on such a day. He had a cigarette between his

lips, which made for comfort; and he still felt the exhilarating effects of his unpremeditated boldness, without

having come to the point of sober thinking. He sat there, and blew occasional mouthfuls of smoke into the

quivering heat waves, and stared down at the river rushing over the impeding rocks as if its very existence

He finished the first cigarette, and rolled another from sheer force of habit rather than because he really

wanted one. He lifted one foot, and laid it across his knee, and was drawing a match along the sole of his boot

when his eyes chanced to rest for a moment upon a flutter of green, which showed briefly around the corner

of a great square rock poised insecurely upon one corner, as if it were about to hurl its great bulk down upon

the river it had watched so long. He held the blazing match poised midway to its destination while he looked;

then he put it to the use he had meant it for, pulled his hatbrim down over his right eye and ear to shield

"HULlo!" he greeted, in the manner of one who refuses to acknowledge the seriousness of a situation which

There was no excitement whatever. There was Peppajee, hunched up against the rock in that uncomfortable

attitude which permits a man to come at the most intimate relations with the outside of his own ankle, upon

which he was scowling in seeming malignity. There was his huntingknife lying upon a flat stone near to his

hand, with a fresh red blotch upon the blade, and there was his little stone pipe clenched between his teeth

and glowing red within the bowl. Also there was the ankle, purple and swollen from the ligature above

itfor his legging was off and torn into strips which formed a bandage, and a splinter of rock was twisted

ingeniously in the wrappings for added tightness. From a crisscross of gashes a sluggish, red stream trickled

down to the anklebone, and from there dripdropped into a tiny, red pool in the barren, yellow soil.

"Catchum rattlesnake bite?" queried Good Indian inanely, as is the habit of the onlooker when the scene

shouts forth eloquently its explanation, and questions are almost insultingly superfluous.

"Huh!" grunted Peppajee, disdaining further speech upon the subject, and regarded sourly the red drip.

"Huh!" Peppajee removed the pipe, his eyes still upon his ankle. "Plenty blood come, mebbyso." To make

sure, however, he kneaded the swollen flesh about the wound, thus accelerating slightly the red drip.

Then deliberately he took another turn with the rock, sending the buckskin thongs deeper into the flesh, and

held the burning pipe against the skin above the wound until Good Indian sickened and turned away his head.

When he looked again, Peppajee was sucking hard at the pipe, and gazing impersonally at the place. He bent

again, and hid the glow of his pipe against his ankle. His thin lips tightened while he held it there, but the

lean, brown fingers were firm as splinters of the rock behind him. When the fire cooled, he fanned it to life

again with his breath, and when it winked redly at him he laid it grimly against his flesh.

So, while Good Indian stood and looked on with lips as tightly drawn as the other's, he seared a circle around

the wounda circle which bit deep and drew apart the gashes like lips opened for protest. He regarded

critically his handiwork, muttered a "Bueno" under his breath, knocked the ashes from his pipe, and returned

it to some mysterious hidingplace beneath his blanket. Then he picked up his moccasin.

"Them damn' snake, him no speakum," he observed disgustedly. "Heap fool me; him biteum"he made a

stabbing gesture with thumb and finger in the air by way of illustration"then him go quick." He began

gingerly trying to force the moccasin upon his foot, his mouth drawn down with the look of one who

"How you get home?" Good Indian's thoughts swung round to practical things. "You got horse?"

Peppajee shook his head, reached for his knife, and slit the moccasin till it was no more than a wrapping.

"Mebbyso you won't do anything of the kind," Good Indian retorted. "You come down and take a horse.

What for you all time watchum Baumberger?" he added, remembering then what had brought them both upon

the bluff. "Baumberger all time fishno more." He waved his hand toward the Malad. "Baumberger

Peppajee got slowly and painfully upon his feetrather, upon one foot. When Good Indian held out a

"Yo' eyes sick," said Peppajee, and grinned sardonically. "Yo' eyes see all time Squawwithsunhair.

Fillum yo' eyes, yo' see notting. Yo' catchum squaw, bimeby mebbyso see plenty mo'. Me no catchum sick

But Peppajee, hobbling where he must walk, crawling where he might, sliding carefully where a slanting

bowlder offered a few feet of smooth descent, and taking hold of Good Indian's offered arm when necessity

impelled him, pressed his thin lips together, and refused to answer. So they came at last to the ledge beside

the rapids, where a thin wisp of smoke waved lazily in the vagrant breeze which played with the ripples and

Only Donny was there, sitting disgruntled upon the most comfortable rock he could find, sulking because the

others had taken all the fishingtackle that was of any account, and had left him to make shift with one bent,

"And I can catch more fish than anybody in the bunch!" he began complainingly and without preface, waving

a dirty hand contemptuously at the despised tackle when the two came slowly up. "That's the way it goes

when you take a lot of girls along! They've got to have the best rods and tackle, and all they'll do will be to

"And I'm going to pile it on still thicker, Donny!" Good Indian grinned down at him. "I'm going to swipe

your Pirate Chief for a while, till I take Peppajee into camp. He's gentle, and Peppajee's got a snakebite. I'll

"I'm ready to go home right now," growled Donny, sinking his chin between his two palms. "But I guess the

Good Indian regarded him frowningly, gave a little snort, and turned away. Donny in that mood was not to be

easily placated, and certainly not to be ignored. He went over to the little flat, and selected Jack's horse,

saddled him, and discovered that it had certain welldefined race prejudices, and would not let Peppajee put

foot to the stirrup. Keno he knew would be no more tractable, so that he finally slapped Jack's saddle on

"You tell Jack I borrowed his saddle and Huckleberry," he called out to the drooping little figure on the rock.

But Donny was glooming over his wrongs, and neither heard nor wanted to hear. Having for his legacy a

temper cumulative in its heat, he was coming rapidly to the point where he, too, started home, and left no

word or message behind; a trivial enough incident in itself, but one which opened the way for some

Few men are ever called upon by untoward circumstance to know the sensations caused by rattlesnake bite,

knife gashes, impromptu cauterization, and, topping the whole, the peculiar torture of congested veins and

swollen muscles which comes from a tourniquet. The feeling must be unpleasant in the extreme, and the most

morbid of sensationseekers would scarcely put himself in the way of that particular experience.

Peppajee Jim, therefore, had reason in plenty for glowering at the world as he saw it that day. He held

Huckleberry rigidly down to his laziest amble that the jar of riding might be lessened, kept his injured foot

free from the stirrup, and merely grunted when Good Indian asked him once how he felt.

When they reached the desolation of the old placerpits, however, he turned his eyes from the trail where it

showed just over Huckleberry's ears, and regarded sourly the deep gashes and dislodged bowlders which told

where water and the greed of man for gold had raged fiercest. Then, for the first time during the whole ride,

"All time, yo' sleepum," he said, in the sonorous, oracular tone which he usually employed when a subject

held his serious thought. "Peaceful Hart, him all same sleepum. All same sleepum 'longside snake. No seeum

snake, no thinkum mebbyso catchum bite." He glanced down at his own snakebitten foot. "Snake bite, make

all time much hurt." His eyes turned, and dwelt sharply upon the face of Good Indian.

"Yo' all time thinkum Squawwithsunhair. Me tell yo' for watchum, yo' no think for watchum.

Baumberga, him all same snake. Yo' think him all time catchum fish. HUH! Yo' heap big fool, yo' thinkum

cat. Rattlesnake, mebbyso sleepum in sun one time. Yo' no thinkum bueno, yo' seeum sleep in sun. Yo' heap

sabe him all time kay bueno jus' same. Yo' heap sabe yo' come close, him biteum. Mebbyso biteum hard, for

killum yo' all time." He paused, then drove home his point like the true orator. "Baumberga catchum fish. All

Good Indian jerked his mind back from delicious recollection of one sweet, swiftpassing minute, and half

opened his lips for reply. But he did not speak; he did not know what to say, and it is illspent timethat

passed in purposeless speech with such as Peppajee. Peppajee roused himself from meditation brief as it

seemed deep, lifted a lean, brown hand to push back from his eyes a fallen lock of hair, and pointed straight

"Las' night, sun go sleepum. Clouds come all same blanket, sun wrappum in blanket. Cloud look heap

madmebbyso make much storm. Bimeby much mens come in cloud, stand soand soand so." With

pointing finger he indicated a half circle. "Otha man come, heap big man. Stoppum 'way off, all time

makeum sign, for fight. Me watchum. Me set by fire, watchum cloud makeum sign. Fire smoke look up for

say, 'What yo' do all time, mebbyso?' Cloud man shakeum hand, makeum much sign. Fire smoke heap sad,

bend down far, lookum me, lookum where cloud look. All time lookum for Peaceful Hart ranch. Me lay

down for sleepum, me dream all time much fight. All time bad sign come. Kay bueno." Peppajee shook his

"Much trouble come heap quick," he said gravely, hitching his blanket into place upon his shoulder. "Me no

sabeall same, heap trouble come. Much mens, mebbyso much fight, much shootummebbyso kill.

Peaceful Hart him all time laugh me. All same, me sabe smoke sign, sabe cloud sign, sabeBaumberga.

Good Indian's memory dashed upon him a picture of bright moonlight and the broody silence of a night half

gone, and of a figure forming sharply and suddenly from the black shadow of the stable and stealing away

into the sage, and of Baumberger emerging warily from that same shadow and stopping to light his pipe

There might be a sinister meaning in that picture, but it was so well hidden that he had little hope of ever

finding it. Also, it occurred to him that Peppajee, usually given over to creature comforts and the idle gossip

of camp and the ranches he visited, was proving the sincerity of his manifest uneasiness by a watchfulness

wholly at variance with his natural laziness. On the other hand, Peppajee loved to play the oracle, and a

waving wisp of smoke, or the changing shapes in a windriven cloud meant to him spiritsent prophecies not

He turned the matter over in his mind, was the victim of uneasiness for five minutes, perhaps, and then

drifted off into wondering what Evadna was doing at that particular moment, and to planning how he should

manage to fall behind with her when they all rode home, and so make possible other delicious moments. He

even took note of certain sharp bends in the trail, where a couple riding fifty yards, say, behind a group would

be for the time being quite hidden from sight and to all intents and purposes alone in the world for two

The ranch was quiet, with even the dogs asleep in the shade. Peppajee insisted in one sentence upon going

straight on to camp, so they did not stop. Without speaking, they plodded through the dust up the grade, left

it, and followed the dim trail through the sagebrush and rocks to the Indian camp which seemed asleep also,

except where three squaws were squatting in the sharply defined, conical shadow of a wikiup, mumbling

desultorily the gossip of their little world, while their fingers moved with mechanical industryone shining

black head bent over a halffinished, beaded moccasin, another stitching a crude gown of brightflowered

calico, and the third braiding her hair afresh with leisurely care for its perfect smoothness. Good Indian took

note of the group before it stirred to activity, and murmured anxiety over the bandaged foot of Peppajee.

"Me no can watchum more, mebbyso six days. Yo' no sleepum all time yo' walkno thinkum all time

squaw. Mebbyso yo' think for mansnake. Mebbyso yo' watchum," Peppajee said, as he swung slowly down

"All right. I'll watchum plenty," Good Indian promised lightly, gave a glance of passing, masculine interest at

the squaw who was braiding her hair, and who was young and freshcheeked and brighteyed and slender,

forgot her the instant his eyes left her, and made haste to return to the Malad and the girl who held all his

That girl was sitting upon the rock which Donny had occupied, and she looked very much as if she were

sulking, much as Donny had sulked. She had her chin in a pink palm and was digging little holes in the sand

with the tip of her rod, which was not at all beneficial to the rod and did not appear even to interest the

digger; for her wonderfully blue eyes were staring at the greenandwhite churn of the rapids, and her lips

were pursed moodily, as if she did not even see what she was looking at so fixedly.

Good Indian's eyes were upon her while he was dismounting, but he did not go to her immediately. Instead,

he busied himself with unsaddling, and explained to the boys just why he had left so unaccountably. Secretly

he was hoping that Evadna heard the explanation, and he raised his voice purposely. But Evadna was not

listening, apparently; and, if she had been, the noise of the rapids would have prevented her hearing what he

Miss Georgie Howard was frying fish and consistently snubbing Baumberger, who hulked loosely near the

campfire, and between puffs at his pipe praised heavily her skill, and professed to own a ravenous appetite.

Good Indian heard him as he passed close by them, and heard also the keen thrust she gave in return; and he

stopped and half turned, looking at her with involuntary appreciation. His glance took in Baumberger next,

and he lifted a shoulder and went on. Without intentionally resorting to subterfuge, he felt an urge to wash his

hands, and he chose for his ablutions that part of the river's edge which was nearest Evadna.

First he stooped and drank thirstily, his hat pushed back, while his lips met full the hurrying water, clear and

cold, yet with the chill it had brought from the mountain springs which fed it, and as he lifted his head he

Evadna stared stonily over him to where the water boiled fastest. He might have been one of the rocks, for all

Good Indian frowned with genuine puzzlement, and began slowly to wash his hands, glancing at her often in

hope that he might meet her eyes. When she did not seem to see him at all, the smile of a secret shared

joyously with her died from his own eyes, and when he had dried his hands upon his handkerchief he cast

aside his inward shyness in the presence of the Hart boys and Miss Georgie and Baumberger, and went boldly

"I'm feeling quite well, thank you," returned Evadna frigidly, neglecting to look at him.

"I'm enjoying myself very muchexcept that your presence annoys me. I wish you'd go away."

Good Indian turned on his heel and went; he felt that at last Evadna was looking at him, though he would not

turn to make sure. And his instinct told him withal that he must ignore her mood if he would win her from it.

With a freakish impulse, he headed straight for the campfire and Miss Georgie, but when he came up to her

the look she gave him of understanding, with sympathy to soften it, sent him away again without speaking.

He wandered back to the river's edgethis time some distance from where Evadna satand began throwing

pebbles at the black nose of a wavewashed bowlder away toward the other side. Clark and Gene, loitered

up, watched him lazily, and, picking up other pebbles, started to do the same thing. Soon all the boys were

throwing at the bowlder, and were making a good deal of noise over the various hits and misses, and the spirit

of rivalry waxed stronger and stronger until it was like any other game wherein fullblooded youths strive

against one another for supremacy. They came to the point of making bets, at first extravagant and then

Miss Georgie burned a fryingpanful of fish until they sent up an acrid, blue smoke, while she ran over to try

her luck with a stone or two. Even Baumberger heaved himself up from where he was lounging, and strolled

over to watch. But Evadna could not have stuck closer to her rock if she had been glued there, and if she had

Good Indian grew anxious, and then angry. The savage stirred within him, and counseled immediate and

complete mastery of herhis woman. But there was the white man of him who said the thought was brute]

and unchivalrous, and reminded the savage that one must not look upon a woman as a chattel, to be beaten or

caressed, as the humor seized the master. And, last of all, there was the surface of him laughing with the

others, fleering at those who fell short of the mark, and striving his utmost to be first of them all in accuracy.

He even smiled upon Miss Georgie when she hit the bowlder fairly, and, when the stench of the burning fish

drifted over to them, he gave his supply of pebbles into her two hands, and ran to the rescue. He caught

Evadna in the act of regarding him sidelong, just as a horse sometimes will keep an eye on the man with the

rope in a corral; so he knew she was thinking of him, at least, and was wondering what he meant to do next,

What he did was to throw away the burnt fish, clean the fryingpan, and start more sizzling over the fire,

which he kicked into just the right condition. He whistled softly to himself while he broke dry sticks across

his knee for the fire, and when Miss Georgie cried out that she had made three hits in succession, he called

back: "Good shot!" and took up the tune where he had left off. Never, for one instant, was he unconscious of

Evadna's secret watchfulness, and never, for one instant, did he let her see that she was in his thoughts.

He finished frying the fish, set out the sandwiches and doughnuts, and pickled peaches and cheese, and

pounded upon a tin plate to announce that dinner was ready. He poured the coffee into the cups held out to

him, and got the flask of cream from a niche between two rocks at the water's edge. He said "Too bad," when

it became generally known that the glare of the sun upon the water had given Evadna a headache, and he said

He held up the brokenhandled butcher knife that was in the camp kit, and declaimed tragically: "Is this a

dagger that I see before me?" and much more of the kind that was eery. He saw the reluctant dimple which

showed fleetingly in Evadna's cheek, and also the tears which swelled her eyelids immediately after, but she

He was taken wholly by surprise when Miss Georgie, walking past him afterward on her way to an enticing

"You're doing fineonly don't overdo it. She's had just about all she can stand right now. Give her a chance

to forgive youand let her think she came out ahead! Good luck!" Whereupon she finished whatever she

pretended to have been doing to her fishingtackle, and beckoned Wally and Jack to come along.

"We've just got to catch that big one," she laughed, "so Mr. Baumberger can go home and attend to his own

business!" It took imagination to feel sure there had been a significant accent on the last of the sentence, and

Baumberger must have been imaginative. He lowered his head like a bull meditating assault, and his leering

eyes shot her a glance of inquiry and suspicion. But Miss Georgie Howard met his look with a smile that was

"I'd like nothing better than to get that fourpounder on my line," she added. "It would be the joke of the

"Bet you couldn't land him," chuckled Baumberger, breathing a sigh which might have been relief, and

ambled away contentedly."I may not see you folks again till supper," he bethought him to call back. "I'm

going to catch a dozen moreand then I thought I'd take 'em up to Pete Hamilton; I'm using his horse, yuh

see, and" He flung out a hand to round off the sentence, turned, and went stumbling over a particularly

Miss Georgie stood where she was, and watched him with her mouth twisted to one side and three

perpendicular creases between her eyebrows. When he was out of sight, she glanced at Evadnaonce more

"Head still bad, chicken?" she inquired cheerfully. "Better stay here in the shadeI won't be gone long."

"I'm going to fish," said Evadna, but she did not stir, not even when Miss Georgie went on, convoyed by all

Good Indian had volunteered the information that he was going to fish downstream, but he was a long time in

tying his leader and fussing with his reel. His preparations were finished just when the last straggler of the

group was out of sight. Then he laid down his rod, went over to Evadna, took her by the arm, and drew her

"Now, what's the trouble?" he asked directly. "I hope you're not trying to make yourself think I was only

You know what I meant, don't you? And you said yes. You said it with your lips, and with your eyes. Did you

There was a droop to Evadna's shoulders, and a tremble to her mouth. She would not look at him. She kept

her eyes gazing downward, perhaps to hide tears. Good Indian waited for her to speak, and when it seemed

plain that she did not mean to do so, he yielded to his instinct and took her in his arms.

"Sweetheart!" he murmured against her ear, and it was the first time he had ever spoken the word to any

woman. "You love me, I know it. You won't say it, but I know you do. I should have felt it this morning if

"And after that youyou rode off and left meand you went away by yourself, just as ifjust as if nothing

had happened, and you've acted ever since as if" She bit her lips, turned her face away from him, plucked

at his hands to free herself from his clasping arms, and then she laid her face down against him, and sobbed.

Good Indian tried his best to explain his mood and his actions that day, and if he did not make himself very

clearwhich could scarcely be expected, since he did not quite understand it himselfhe at least succeeded

They were astonished when Wally and Jack and Miss Georgie suddenly confronted them and proved, by the

number of fish which they carried, that they had been gone longer than ten minutes or so. They were red as to

their faces, and embarrassed as to manner, and Good Indian went away hurriedly after the horses, without

meeting the quizzical glances of the boys, or replying t to certain pointed remarks which they fired after him.

"And he's the buckaroo that's got no use for girls!" commented Wally, looking after him, and ran his tongue

meditatively along the loose edge of his cigarette. "Kid, I wish you'd tell me how you done it. It worked

"And thorough," grinned Jack. "I was thinking some of falling in love with you myself, Vad. Soon as some of

"I saw it coming, when it first heaved in sight," chirped Miss Georgie, in a more cheerful tone than she had

used that day; in too cheerful a tone to be quite convincing, if any one there had been taking notice of mere

"Guess that bobcat was after my ducks again, last night," commented Phoebe Hart, when she handed

Baumberger his cup of coffee. "The way the dogs barked all nightdidn't they keep you awake?"

"Never slept better in my life," drawled Baumberger, his voice sliding upward from the first word to the last.

His bloodshot eyes, however, rather gave the lie to his statement. "I'm going to make one more try, 'long

about noon, for that big onegirls didn't get him, I guess, for all their threats, or I'd heard about it. And I

reckon I'll take the evening train home. Shoulda gone yesterday, by rights. I'd like to get a basket uh fish to

take up with me. Great coffee, Mrs. Hart, and such cream I never did see. I sure do hate to leave so many

good things and go back to a boardin' house. Look at this honey, now!" He sighed gluttonously, leaning

"Dogs were barking at something down in the orchard," Wally volunteered, passing over Baumberger's

monologue. "I was going down there, but it was so darkand I thought maybe it was Gene's ghost. That was

"My trap wasn't sprung behind the chickenhouse," said Donny. "I looked, first thing."

"Dogs," drawled Baumberger, his enunciation muffled by the food in his mouth, "always bark. And cats fight

on shedroofs. Next door to where I board there's a dog that goes on shift as regular as a policeman. Every

"Oh, Aunt Phoebe!" Evadna, crisp and cool in a summery dress of some lightcolored stuff, and looking

more than ever like a Christmas angel set aflutter upon the top of a holiday fir in a sudden gust of wind,

threw open the door, rushed halfway into the room, and stopped beside the chair of her aunt. Her hands

dropped to the plump shoulder of the sitter. "Aunt Phoebe, there's a man down at the farther end of the

strawberry patch! He's got a gun, Aunt Phoebe, and he's camped there, and when he heard me he jumped up

"Why, honey, that can't beyou must have seen an Indian prowling after windfalls off the apricot trees

there. He wouldn't hurt you." Phoebe reached up, and caught the hands in a reassuring clasp.

Evadna's eyes strayed from one face to another around the table till they rested upon Good Indian, as having

"But, Aunt Phoebe, he was WASN'T. He was a white man. And he has a camp there, right by that tree the

lightning peeled the bark off. I was close before I saw him, for he was sitting down and the currant bushes

were between. But I went through to get round where Uncle Hart has been irrigating and it's all mud, and he

jumped up and pointed the gun AT me. Just as if he was going to shoot me. And I turned and ran." Her

fingers closed upon the hand of her aunt, but her eyes clung to Good Indian, as though it was to him she was

"Tramp," suggested Baumberger, in a tone of soothing finality, as when one hushes the fear of a child. "Sick

the dogs on him. He'll gonever saw the hobo yet that wouldn't run from a dog." He smiled leeringly up at

Good Indian pulled his glance from Evadna, and tried to bore through the beefy mask which was

Baumberger's face, but all he found there was a gross interest in his breakfast and a certain indulgent

"Who ever heard of a tramp camped in our orchard!" flouted Phoebe. "They don't get down here once a year,

and then they always come to the house. You couldn't know there WAS any strawberry patch behind that

"He's got a row of stakes running clear across tho patch," Evadna recalled suddenly. "Just like they do for a

Good Indian pushed back his chair with a harsh, scraping noise, and rose. He was staring hard at

Baumberger, and his whole face had sharpened till it had the cold, unyielding look of an Indian. And

suddenly Baumberger raised his head and met full that look. For two breaths their eyes held each other, and

"Sounds queermust be some mistake, though. You must have seen something, girl, that reminded you of

stakes. The stub off a sagebrush maybe?" He ogled her quite frankly. "When a little girl gets scaredSick

the dogs on him," he advised the family collectively, his manner changing to a blustering anxiety that her

Evadna seemed to take his tone as a direct challenge. "I was scared, but I know quite well what I saw. He

wasn't a tramp. He had a regular camp, with a coffeepot and fryingpan and blankets. And there a line of

Before, the breakfast had continued to seem an important incident temporarily suspended. Now Peaceful Hart

laid hand to his beard, eyed his wife questioningly, let his glance flicker over the faces of his sons, and

straightened his shoulders unconsciously. Good Indian was at the door, his mouth set in a thin, straight,

fighting line. Wally and Jack were sliding their chairs back from the table preparing to follow him.

"I guess it ain't anything much," Peaceful opined optimistically. "They can't do anything but steal berries, and

they're most gone, anyhow. Go ask him what he wants, down there." The last sentence was but feeble sort of

fiction that his boys would await his commands; as a matter of fact, they were outside before he spoke.

"Take the dogs along," called out Baumberger, quite as futilely, for not one of the boys was within hearing.

Until they heard footsteps returning at a run, the four stayed where they were. Baumberger rumbled on in a

desultory sort of way, which might have caused an observant person to wonder where was his lawyer

training, and the deep cunning and skill with which he was credited, for his words were as profitless and

inconsequential as an old woman's. He talked about tramps, and dogs that barked o' nights, and touched

Peaceful Hart may have heard half of what he saidbut more likely he heard none of it. He sat drawing his

white beard through his hand, and his mild, blue eyes were turned often to Phoebe in mute question. Phoebe

herself was listening, but not to Baumberger; she was permitting Evadna to tuck in stray locks of her soft,

brown hair, but her face was turned to the door which opened upon the porch. At the first clatter of running

footsteps on the porch, she and Peaceful pushed back their chairs instinctively.

"There's four of 'em, papa!" he shouted, all in one breath. "They're jumpin' the ranch for placer claims. They

said so. Each one's got a claim, and they're campin' on the corners, so they'll be close together. They're goin'

"Oh!" screamed Evadna suddenly. "Don't let himdon't let them hurt him, Uncle Hart!"

"Aw, they ain't fightin'," Donny assured her disgustedly. "They're chewin' the rag down there, is all. Good

Peaceful Hart stood indecisively, and stared, one and gripping the back of his chair. His lips were working so

"They can't do nothingthe ranch belongs to me," he said, his eyes turning rather helplessly to Baumberger.

"Jumping our ranch!for placer claims!" Phoebe stood up, leaning hard upon the table with both hands.

"Now, now, let's not get excited over this," soothed Baumberger, getting out of his chair slowly, like the

overfed glutton he was. He picked up a crisp fragment of biscuit, crunched it between his teeth, and chewed it

slowly. "Can't be anything seriousand if it is, whyI'm here. A lawyer right on the spot may save a lot of

trouble. The main thing is, let's not get excited and do something rash. Those boys"

"Not excited?and somebody jumpingourranch?" Phoebe's soft eyes gleamed at him. She was pale, so

"Now, now!" Baumberger put out a puffy hand admonishingly. "Let's keep coolthat's half the battle won.

Keep cool." He reached for his pipe, got out his twisted leather tobacco pouch, and opened it with a twirl of

"You're a lawyer, Mr. Baumberger," Peaceful turned to him, still helpless in his manner. "What's the best

"Don'tgetexcited." Baumberger nodded his head for every word. "That's what I always say when a

client comes to me all worked up. We'll go down there and see just how much there is to this, andorder 'em

off. Calmly, calmly! No violenceno threatsjust tell 'em firmly and quietly to leave." He stuffed his pipe

carefully, pressing down the tobacco with the tip of a finger. "Then," he added with slow emphasis, "if they

don't go, aftersay twentyfour hours' noticewhy, we'll proceed to serve an injunction." He drew a match

"I reckon we'd better go and look after those boys of yours," he suggested, moving toward the door rather

quickly, for all his apparent deliberation. "They're inclined to be hotheaded, and we must have no violence,

above all things. Keep it a civil matter right through. Much easier to handle in court, if there's no violence to

"They're looking for it," Phoebe reminded him bluntly. "The man had a gun, and threw down on Vadnie."

"He only pointed it at me, auntie," Evadna corrected, ignorant of the Western phrase.

The two women followed the men outside and into the shady yard, where the trees hid completely what lay

across the road and beyond the double row of poplars. Donny, leaning far forward and digging his bare toes

into the loose soil for more speed, raced on ahead, anxious to see and hear all that took place.

"If the boys don't stir up a lot of antagonism," Baumberger kept urging Peaceful and Phoebe, as they hurried

into the garden, "the matter ought to be settled without much trouble. You can get an injunction, and"

"The idea of anybody trying to hold our place for mineral land!" Phoebe's indignation was cumulative

always, and was now bubbling into wrath. "Why, my grief! Thomas spent one whole summer washing every

likely spot around here. He never got anything better than colors on this ranchand you can get them

anywhere in Idaho, almost. And to come right into our garden, in the rightand stake a placer claim!" Her

"Wellbut we mustn't let ourselves get excited," soothed Baumberger, the shadow of him falling darkly

upon Peaceful and Phoebe as he strode along, upon the side next the sun. Peppajee would have called that an

"That's where people always blunder in a thing like this. A little coolheadedness goes farther than hard

words or lead. And," he added cheeringly, "it may be a false alarm, remember. We won't borrow trouble.

"It's always easy enough to be calm over the other fellow's trouble," said Phoebe sharply, irritated in an

indefinable way by the oily optimism of the other. "It ain't your ox that's gored, Mr. Baumberger."

They skirted the double row of grapevines, picked their way over a spot lately flooded from the ditch, which

they crossed upon two planks laid side by side, went through an end of the currant patch, made a detour

around a small jungle of gooseberry bushes, and so came in sight of the strawberry patch and what was taking

place near the lightningscarred apricot tree. Baumberger lengthened his stride, and so reached the spot first.

The boys were grouped belligerently in the strawberry patch, just outside a line of new stakes, freshly driven

in the ground. Beyond that line stood a man facing them with a .45.70 balanced in the hollow of his arm. In

the background stood three other men in open spaces in the shrubbery, at intervals of ten rods or so, and they

also had rifles rather conspicuously displayed. They were grinning, all three. The man just over the line was

listening while Good Indian spoke; the voice of Good Indian was even and quiet, as if he were indulging in

casual small talk of the country, but that particular claimjumper was not smiling. Even from a distance they

could see that he was fidgeting uncomfortably while he listened, and that his breath was beginning to come

"Now, roll your blankets and GIT!" Good Indian finished sharply, and with the toe of his boot kicked the

nearest stake clear of the loose soil. He stooped, picked it up, and cast it contemptuously from him. It landed

three feet in front of the man who had planted it, and he jumped and shifted the rifle significantly upon his

"Now, now, we don't want any overt acts of violence here," wheezed Baumberger, laying hand upon Good

Indian's shoulder from behind. Good Indian shook off the touch as if it were a tarantula upon him.

"Tut, tut!" Baumberger reproved gently. "The ladies are within hearing, my boy. Let's get at this thing

sensibly and calmly. Violence only makes things worse. See how quiet Wally and Jack and Clark and Gene

are! THEY realize how childishly spiteful it would be for them to follow your example. They know better.

Jack grinned, and hitched his gun into plainer view. "When we start in, it won't be STICKS we're sending to

"This," said Baumberger, a peculiar gleam coming into his leering, puffylidded eyes, and a certain hardness

creeping into his voice, "this is a matter for your father and me to settle. It's justabidebeyond you

youngsters. This is a civil case. Don't foolishly make it come under the criminal code. But there!" His voice

"Oh, sure!" Wally gave his characteristic little snort."We're only just standing around to see how fast the

"Stanley, put down that gun, and explain your presence here and your object," he rumbled. "Let's get at this

The man across the line did not put down his rifle, except that he let the butt of it drop slightly away from his

shoulder so that the sights were in alignment with an irrigating shovel thrust upright into the ground ten feet

to one side of the group. His manner lost little of its watchfulness, and his voice was surly with defiance

when he spoke. But Good Indian, regarding him suspiciously through halfclosed lids, would have sworn

that a look of intelligence flashed between those two. There was nothing more than a quiver of his nostrils to

betray him as he moved over beside Evadnafor the pure pleasure of being near her, one would think; in

reality, while the pleasure was there, that he might see both Baumberger's face and Stanley's without turning

"All there is to it," Stanley began blustering, "you see before yuh. I've located twenty acres here as a placer

claim. That there's the northwest cornerapprox'm'tleyclose as I could come by sightin'. Your fences are

straight with yer land, and I happen to sabe all yer corners. I've got a right here. I believe this ground is worth

more for the gold that's in it than for the turnips you can make grow on topand that there makes mineral

land of it, and as such, open to entry. That's accordin' to law. I ain't goin' to build no troublebut I sure do

aim to defend my prope'ty rights if I have to. I realize yuh may think diffrunt from me. You've got a right to

prove, if yuh can, that all this ain't mineral land. I've got jest as much right to prove it is."

He took a breath so deep it expanded visibly his chesta broad, muscular chest it wasand let his eyes

"That there's where _I_ stand," he stated, with arrogant selfassurance. His mouth drew down at the corners

in a smile which asked plainly what they were going to do about it, and intimated quite as plainly that he did

not care what they did, though he might feel a certain curiosity as an onlooker.

"I happen to know" Peaceful began, suddenly for him. But Baumberger waved him into silence.

"You'll have to prove there's gold in paying quantities here," he stated pompously.

"_I_ proved, over fifteen years ago, that there WASN'T," Peaceful drawled laconically, and sucked so hard

Stanley grinned at him. "Sorry I can't let it go at that," he said ironically. "I reckon I'll have to do some

Stanley's eyes flickered a questioning glance at Baumberger, and Baumberger puffed out his chest and said:

"The law won't permit you to despoil this man's property without good reason. We can serve an

"As Mr. Hart's legal adviser," Baumberger began, in the tone he employed in the courtrooma tone which

held no hint of his wheezy chuckle or his oily reassurance"I hereby demand that you leave this claim

which you have staked out upon Thomas Hart's ranch, and protest that your continued presence here, after

twentyfour hours have expired, will be looked upon as malicious trespass, and treated as such."

Stanley still grinned. "As my own legal adviser," he returned calmly, "I hereby declare that you can go plumb

to HELena." Stanley evidently felt impelled to adapt his vocabulary to feminine ears, for he glanced at them

If either Stanley or Baumberger had chanced to look toward Good Indian, he might have wondered why that

young man had come, of a sudden, to resemble so strongly his mother's people. He had that stoniness of

expression which betrays strong emotion held rigidly in check, with which his quivering nostrils and the light

in his halfshut eyes contrasted strangely. He had missed no fleeting glance, no guarded tone, and he was

thinking and weighing and measuring every impression as it came to him. Of some things he felt sure; of

others he was half convinced; and there was more which he only suspected. And all the while he stood there

"I think, since you have been properly notified to leave," said Baumberger, with the indefinable air of a

lawyer who gathers up his papers relating to one case, thrusts them into his pocket, and turns his attention to

the needs of his next client, "we'll just have it out with these other fellows, though I look upon Stanley," he

"Better say he's a TOUGH case," blurted Wally, and turned on his heel. "What the devil are they standing

around on one foot for, making medicine?" he demanded angrily of Good Indian, who unceremoniously left

Evadna and came up with him. "I'D run him off the ranch first, and do my talking about it afterward. That

"Exactly." Good Indian thrust both hands deep into his trousers pockets, and stared at the ground before him.

Wally gave another snort. "I don't know how it hits you, Grantbut there's something fishy about it."

"Injun's on top," he diagnosed sententiously after a minute. "Looks like he's putting on a good, thick layer uh

warpaint, too." He waited expectantly. "You might hand me the brush when you're through," he hinted

"That so?" Good Indian asked inattentively, and went on without waiting for any reply. They left the garden,

and went down the road to the stable, Wally passively following Grant's lead. Someone came hurrying after

them, and they turned to see Jack. The others had evidently stayed to hear the legal harangue to a close.

"Say, Stanley says there's four beside the fellows we saw," Jack announced, rather breathlessly, for he had

been running through the loose, heavy soil of the garden to overtake them. "They've located twenty acres

apiece, he saysstaked 'em out in the night and stuck up their noticesand everyone's going to STICK.

They're all going to put in grizzlies and mine the whole thing, he told dad. He just the same as accused dad

right out of covering up valuable mineral land on purpose. And he says the law's all on their side." He leaned

hard against the stable, and drew his fingers across his forehead, white as a girl's when he pushed back his

hat. "Baumberger," he said cheerlessly, "was still talking injunction when I left, but" He flung out his hand

Good Indian threw up his head with that peculiar tightening of lips which meant much in the way of emotion.

"He'll listen to Baumberger, and he'll lose the ranch listening," he stated distinctly. "If there's anything to do,

"We can run 'em offmaybe," suggested Jack, his fighting instincts steadied by the vivid memory of four

"This isn't a case of applestealing," Good Indian quelled sharply, and got his rope from his saddle with the

"Not a thing at present." Good Indian started for the little pasture, where Keno was feeding and switching

methodically at the flies. "You fellows can do more by doing nothing today than if you killed off the whole

He came back in a few minutes with his horse, and found the two still moodily discussing the thing. He

"Where you going?" asked Wally abruptly, when Grant was looping up the end of his latigo.

"Just scouting around a little," was the unsatisfactory reply he got, and he scowled as Good Indian rode away.

Good Indian spoke briefly with the goodlooking young squaw, who had a shy glance for him when he came

up; afterward he took hold of his hat by the brim, and ducked through the low opening of a wikiup which she

"Howdy, Peppajee? How you foot?" he asked, when his unaccustomed eyes discerned the old fellow lying

"Huh! Him heap sick all time." Having his injury thus brought afresh to his notice, Peppajee reached down

"Last night," Good Indian began without that ceremony of long waiting which is a part of Indian etiquette,

"much men come to Hart ranch. Eight." He held up his two outspread hands, with the thumbs tucked inside

his palms. "Come in dark, no seeum till sun come back. Makeum camp. One man put sticks in ground, say

that part belong him. Twenty acres." He flung up his hands, lowered them, and immediately raised them

again. "Eight men do that all same. Have guns, grub, blanketsstop there all time. Say they wash gold. Say

that ranch have much gold, stake placer claims. Baumberger"he saw Peppajee's eyelids draw

together"tell men to go away. Tell Peaceful he fight those menin court. You sabe~ Ask Great Father to

There is no hurrying the speech of an Indian. Peppajee smoked stolidly, his eyes half closed and blinking

sleepily. The veneer of white men's ways dropped from him when he entered his own wikiup, and he would

"Las' nightmebbyso yo' watchum?" he asked, as one who holds his judgment in abeyance.

"I heap fool. I no watch. I let those men come while I think ofa girl. My eyes sleep." Good Indian was too

proud to parry, too bitter with himself to deny. He had not said the thing before, even to himself, but it was in

his heart to hate his love, because it had cost this catastrophe to his friends.

"Kay bueno." Peppajee's voice was harsh. But after a time he spoke more sympathetically. "Yo' no watchum.

Yo' let heap trouble come. This day yo' heart bad, mebbyso. This day yo' no thinkum squaw all time.

Grant nodded silently. It would seem that Peppajee understood, even though his speech was halting. At that

moment much of the unfounded prejudice, which had been for a few days set aside because of bigger things,

died within him. He had disliked Peppajee as a pompous egotist among his kind. His latent antagonism

against all Indians because they were unwelcomely his blood relatives had crystallized here and there against;

certain individuals of the tribe. Old Hagar he hated coldly. Peppajee's staginess irritated him. In his youthful

arrogance he had not troubled to see the real man of mettle under that dingy green blanket. Now he looked at

Peppajee with a startled sense that he had never known him at all, and that Peppajee was not only a grimy

"Me no sabe one thing. One otha thing me sabe. Yo' no b'lieve Baumberga one frien'. Him all same snake.

Them mens come, Baumberga tellum come all time. All time him try for foolum Peaceful. Yo' look out. Yo'

"I come here," said Good Indian; "I think you mebbyso hear talk, you tell me. My heart heap sad, I let this

trouble come. I want to kill that trouble. Mebbyso make my friends laugh, be heap glad those men no stealum

Peppajee smoked imperturbably what time his dignity demanded. At length he took the pipe from his mouth,

stretched out his arm toward Hartley, and spoke in his sonorous tone, calculated to add weight to his words.

"Yo' go speakum Squawtalkfaroff," he commanded. "All time makum talktalk" He drummed with

his fingers upon his left forearm. "Mebbyso heap sabe. Heap sabe Baumberga kay bueno. He thinkum sabe

stealum ranch. All time heap talk come Manthat coughs, come all same Baumberga. Heap smart, dat

squaw." A smile laid its faint light upon his grim old lips, and was gone. "Thinkum yo' heap bueno, dat

Good Indian stood up, his head bent to avoid scraping his hat against the sloping roof of the wikiup.

"You no hear more talk all time you watch?" he asked, passing over Miss Georgie's possible aid or interest in

"Much talkumno can hear. All time them damn' Baumberga shut doorno talkum loud. All time

Baumberga walkum in dark. Walkum where apples grow, walkum grass, walkum all dat ranch all time. All

time me heap watchum. Snake come, bitum footno can watchum mo'. Dat time, much mens come. Yo'

sabe. Baumberga all time talkum, him heap frien' Peacefu'heap snake all time. Speakum two tongue Yo' no

b'lievum. All time heap big liar, him. Yo' go, speakum Squawtalkfaroff. Bueno, dat squaw. Heap smart,

all same mans. Yo' go. Pikeway." He settled back with a gesture of finality, and so Good Indian left him.

Old Hagar shrilled maledictions after him when he passed through the littered camp on his way back to where

he had left his horse, but for once he was deaf to her upbraidings. Indeed, he never heard heror if he did,

her clamor was to him as the yelping of the dogs which filled his ears, but did not enter his thoughts.

The young squaw smiled at him shyeyed as he went by her, and though his physical eyes saw her standing

demurely there in the shade of her wikiup, ready to shrink coyly away from too bold a glance, the manmind

of him was blind and took no notice. He neither heard the baffled screaming of vile epithets when old Hagar

knew that her venom could not strike through the armor of his preoccupation, nor saw the hurt look creep into

the soft eyes of the young squaw when his face did not turn toward her after the first inattentive glance.

Good Indian was thinking how barren had been his talk with Peppajee, and was realizing keenly how much

he had expected from the interview. It is frequently by the depth of our disappointment only that we can

rightly measure the height of our hope. He had come to Peppajee for something tangible, some thing that

might be called real evidence of the conspiracy he suspected. He had got nothing but suspicion to match his

"What can she do?" he thought resentfully, feeling as if he had been offered a willow switch with which to

fight off a grizzly. It seemed to him that he might as sensibly go to Evadna herself for assistance, and that,

even his infatuation was obliged to admit, would be idiotic. Peppajee, he told himself when he reached his

With that in his mind, he mountedand turned Keno's head toward Hartley. The distance was not

greatlittle more than half a milebut when he swung from the saddle in the square blotch of shade east by

the little, red station house upon the parched sand and cinders, Keno's flanks were heaving like the silent

sobbing of a woman with the pace his master's spurred heels had required of him.

Miss Georgie gave her hair a hasty pat or two, pushed a novel out of sight under a Boise newspaper, and

turned toward him with a breezily careless smile when he stepped up to the open door and stopped as if he

He was secretly thinking of Peppajee's information that Miss Georgie thought he was "bueno," and he was

wondering if it were true. Not that he wanted it to be true! But he was man enough to look at her with a

keener interest than he had felt before. And Miss Georgie, if one might judge by her manner, was woman

enough to detect that interest and to draw back her skirts, mentally, ready for instant flight into

"Howdy, Mr. Imsen?" she greeted him lightly. "In what official capacity am I to receive you, please? Do

YOU want to send a telegram?" The accent upon the pronoun was very faint, but it was there for him to

notice if he liked. So much she helped him. She was a bright young woman indeed, that she saw he wanted

"I don't believe I came to see you officially at all," he said, and his eyes lighted a little as he looked at her.

"Peppajee Jim told me to come. He said you're a 'heap smart squaw, all same mans.'"

"Item: One pound of redandwhite candy for Peppajee Jim next time I see him." Miss Georgie

laughedbut she also sat down so that her face was turned to the window. "Are you in urgent need of a heap

smart squaw?" she asked. "I thought"she caught herself up, and then went recklessly on"I thought

"It's brains I need just now." After the words were out, Good Indian wanted to swear at himself for seeming

to belittle Evadna. "I mean," he corrected quickly"do you know what I mean? I'll tell you what has

happened, and if you don't know then, and can't help me, I'll just have to apologize for coming, and get out."

"Yes, I think you had better tell me why you need me particularly. I know the chicken's perfect, and doesn't

lack brains, and you didn't mean that she does. You're all stirred up over something. What's wrong?" Miss

Georgie would have spoken in just that tone if she had been a man or if Grant had been a woman.

"And you imagine that it's partly your fault, and that it wouldn't have happened if you had spent more time

keeping your weather eye open, and not so much making love?" Miss Georgie could be very blunt, as well as

keen. "Well, I don't see how you could prevent it, or what you could have doneunless you had kicked old

Good Indian had been fiddling with his hat and staring hard at a pile of old ties just outside the window. He

raised his head, and regarded her steadily. It was beginning to occur to him that there was a good deal to this

Miss Georgie, under that offhand, breezy exterior. He felt himself drawn to her as a person whom he could

"You're right as far as I'm concerned," he owned, with his queer, inscrutable smile. "I think you're also right

Miss Georgie twirled a ring upon her middle finger for a moment before she looked up at him.

"Do you know anything about mining laws?" she asked, and when he swung his head slightly to one side in a

tacit negative, she went on: "You say there are eight jumpers. Concerted action, that. Premeditated. My daddy

was a lawyer," she threw in by way of explanation. "I used to help him in the office a good deal. When

hedied, I didn't know enough to go on and be a lawyer myself, so I took to this." She waved her hand

"So it's like this: Eight men can take placer claimscan hold them, you knowfor one man. That's the

limit, a hundred and sixty acres. Those eight men aren't jumping that ranch as eight individuals; they're in the

employ of a principal who is engineering the affair. If I were going to shy a pebble at the head mogul, I'd sure

try hard to hit our corpulent friend with the fishy eye. And that," she added, "is what all these cipher

messages for Saunders mean, very likely. Baumberger had to have someone here to spy around for him and

perhaps help him chooseor at least get togetherthose eight men. They must have come in on the night

train, for I didn't see them. I'll bet they're tough customers, every mother's son of them! Fighters down to the

"I only saw four. They were heeled, and ready for business, all right," he told her. "Soon as I saw what the

game was, and that Baumberger was only playing for time and a free hand, I pulled out. I thought Peppajee

"Baumberger's going to steal that ranch according to law, you see," Miss Georgie stated with conviction.

"They've got to pan out a sample of gold to prove there's pay dirt there, before they can file their claims. And

they've got to do their filing in Shoshone. I suppose their notices are up O.K. I wonder, now, how they intend

to manage that? I believe," she mused, "they'll have to go in personI don't believe Baumberger can do that

all himself legally. I've got some of daddy's lawbooks over in my trunk, and maybe I can look it up and

make sure. But I know they haven't filed their claims yet. They've GOT to take possession first, and they've

got to show a sample of ore, or dust, it would be in this case. The best thing to do" She drew her eyebrows

together, and she pinched her under lip between her thumb and forefinger, and she stared abstractedly at

Good Indian. "Oh, hurry up, Grant!" she cried unguardedly. "Thinkthink HARD, what's best to do!"

"And that won't do, under the circumstances," she cut in airily." There'd still be the eight. I'D like," she

declared viciously, "to put roughonrats in his dinner, but I intend to refrain from doing as I'd like, and stick

Good Indian gave her a glance of grateful understanding. "This thing has hit me hard," he confided suddenly.

"I've been holding myself in all day. The Harts are like my own folks. They're all I've had, and she's

beenthey've all been" Then the instinct of repression walled in his emotion, and he let the rest go in a

long breath which told Miss Georgie all she needed to know. So much of Good Indian would never find

expression in speech; all that was best of him would not, one might be tempted to think.

"By the way, is there any pay dirt on that ranch?" Miss Georgie kept herself rigidly to the main subject.

"No, there isn't. Not," he added dryly, "unless it has grown gold in the last few years. There are colors, of

"Look out," she advised him slowly, "that pay dirt doesn't grow over night! Sabe?"

"Can't give me credit for being 'heap smart'?" she bantered. "Can't even let me believe I thought of something

beyond the ken of the average person? Not," she amended ironically, "that I consider YOU an average

person! Would you mind"she became suddenly matter of fact"waiting here while I go and rummage for

a book I want? I'm almost sure I have one on mining laws. Daddy had a good deal of that in his business,

being in a mining country. We've got to know just where we stand, it seems to me, because Baumberger's

She had to go first and put a stop to the hysterical chattering of the sounder by answering the summons. It

proved to be a message for Baumberger, and she wrote it down in a spiteful scribble which left it barely

"Betraying professional secrets, but I don't care," she exclaimed, turning swiftly toward him. "Listen to this:

She threw it down upon the table with a pettish gesture that was wholly feminine. "Sounds perfectly innocent,

doesn't it? Too perfectly innocent, if you ask me." She stared out of the window abstractedly, her brows

pinched together and her lips pursed with a corner between her teeth, much as she had stared after

Baumberger the day before; and when she spoke she seemed to have swung her memory back to him then.

"He came up yesterdaywith fish for Pete, he SAID, and of course he really did have someand sent a

wire to Shoshone. I found it on file when I came back. That was perfectly innocent, too. It was:

"I've an excellent memory, you see." She laughed shortly. "Well, I'll go and hunt up that book, and we'll

proceed to glean the wisdom of the serpent, so that we won't be compelled to remain as harmless as the dove!

He assured her that he would not mind in the least, and she ran out bareheaded into the hot sunlight. Good

Indian leaned forward a little in his chair so that he could watch her running across to the shack where she

had a room or two, and he paid her the compliment of keeping her in his thoughts all the time she was gone.

He felt, as he had done with Peppajee, that he had not known Miss Georgie at all until today, and he was a

"Of course," she laughed, when she rustled in again like a whiff of fresh air, "I had to go clear to the bottom

of the last trunk I looked in. Lucky I only have three to my name, for it would have been in the last one just

the same, if I'd had two dozen and had ransacked them all. But I found it, thank Heaven!"

She came eagerly up to himhe was sitting in the beribboned rocker dedicated to friendly callers, and had

the rug badly rumpled with his spurs, which he had forgotten to removeand with a sweep of her forearm

she cleared the little table of novel, newspaper, and a magazine and deck of cards, and barely saved her box

"Like candy? Help yourself, if you do," she said, and tucked a piece into her mouth absentmindedly before

she laid the leatherbound book open on the table. "Now, we'll see what information Mr. Copp can give us.

He's a high authorityGeneral Land Office Commissioner, if you please. He's a few years oldseveral

years old, for that matterbut I don't think he's out of date; I believe what he says still goes.

Mmm!'Liens on Mines''Clause Inserted in Patents''Affidavits Taken Without Notice to

She was running a somewhat sticky forefinger slowly down the index pages. "It isn't alphabetically arranged,

which I consider sloppy of Mr. Copp. Ahh! 'Minerals Discovered After Patent Has Issued to Agricultural

Claimant'two hundred and eight. We'll just take a look at that first. That's what they're claiming, you

know." She hitched her chair closer, and flipped the leaves eagerly. When she found the page, they touched

"SIR: In reply to your letter of inquiry . . . I have to state that all mineral deposits discovered on land after

United States Patent therefor has issued to a party claiming under the laws regulating the disposal of

agricultural lands, pass with the patent, and this office has no further jurisdiction in the premise. Very

"'PASS WITH THE PATENT!'" Miss Georgie turned her face so that she could look into Grant's eyes, so

close to her own. "Old Peaceful must surely have his patentBaumberger can't be much of a lawyer, do you

think? Because that's a flat statement. There's no chance for any legal quibbling in thatIS there?"

"That's about as straight as he could put it," Good Indian agreed, his face losing a little of its anxiety.

"Well, we'll just browse along for more of the same," she suggested cheerfully, and went back to the index.

But first she drew a lead pencil from where it had been stabbed through her hair, and marked the letter with

"'Agricultural Claimants Entitled to Full Protection,'" she read hearteningly from the index, and turned hastily

to see what was to be said about it. It happened to be another decision rendered in a letter, and they jubilated

"Now, here is what I was telling you, Grant," she said suddenly, after another long minute of studying silently

the index. "'Eight Locaters of Placer Ground May Convey to One Party'and Baumberger's certainly that

party!'Who Can Secure Patent for One Hundred and Sixty Acres.' We'll just read up on that, and find out

for sure what the conditions are. Now, here"she had found the page quickly"listen to this:

'each having located twenty acres, in accordance with the congressional rules and regulations, should convey

all their right, title, and interest in said locations to one person, such person might apply for a patent'

"And so on into tiresomeness. Really, I'm beginning to think Baumberger's awfully stupid, to even attempt

such a silly thing. He hasn't a legal leg to stand on. 'Goes with the patent'that sounds nice to me. They're

not locating in good faiththose eight jumpers down there." She fortified herself with another piece of

candy. "All you need," she declared briskly, "is a good lawyer to take this up and see it through."

"You seem to be doing pretty well," he remarked, his eyes dwelling rather intently upon her face, and smiling

"I can read what's in the book," she remarked lightly, her eyes upon its pages as if she were consciously

holding them from meeting his look. "But it will take a lawyer to see the case through the courts. And let me

tell you one thing very emphatically." She looked at him brightly. "Many a case as strong as this has been

lost, just by legal quibbling and ignorance of how to handle it properly. Many a case without a leg to stand on

has been won, by smooth work on the part of some lawyer. Now, I'll just jot down what they'll have to do,

and prove, if they get that landand look here, Mr. Man, here's another thing to consider. Maybe

Baumberger doesn't expect to get a patent. Maybe he means to make old Peaceful so deucedly sick of the

thing that he'll sell out cheap rather than fight the thing to a finish. Because this can be appealed, and taken up

and up, and reopened because of some technical erroroh, as Jenny Wren says inin"

"Oh, you've read it!where she always says: '_I_ know their tricks and their manners!' And I do, from being

so much with daddy in the office and hearing him talk shop. I know that, without a single bit of justice on

their side, they could carry this case along till the very expense of it would eat up the ranch and leave the

Harts flat broke. And if they didn't fight and keep on fighting, they could lose itso there you are."

She shut the book with a slam. "But," she added more brightly when she saw the cloud of gloom settle

blacker than before on his face, and remembered that he felt himself at least partly to blame, "it helps a lot to

have the law all on our side, and" She had to go then, because the dispatcher was calling, and she knew it

must be a train order. "We'll read up a little more, and see just what are the requirements of placer mining

lawsand maybe we can make it a trifle difficult for those eight to comply!" she told him over her shoulder,

while her fingers chittered a reply to the call, and then turned her attention wholly to receiving the message.

Good Indian, knowing well the easy custom of the country which makes smoking always permissible, rolled

himself a cigarette while he waited for her to come back to his side of the room. He was just holding the

match up and waiting for a clear blaze before setting his tobacco afire, when came a taptap of feet on the

"Oh!" she exclaimed, and widened her indigo eyes at him sitting there and looking so much at home.

"Come right in, chicken," Miss Georgie invited cordially. "Don't stand there in the hot sun. Mr. Imsen is

going to turn the seat of honor over to you this instant. Awfully glad you came. Have some candy."

Evadna sat down in the rocker, thrust her two little feet out so that the toe, of her shoes showed close together

beyond the hem of her ridingskirt, laid her gauntleted palms upon the arms of the chair and rocked

methodically, and looked at Grant and then at Miss Georgie, and afterward tilted up her chin and smiled

superciliously at an insurance company's latest offering to the public in the way of a calendar two feet long.

"When did you come up?" Good Indian asked her, trying so hard to keep a placating note out of his voice that

"Ohabout an hour ago, I think," Evadna drawled sweetlythe sweet tones which always mean trouble,

Good Indian bit his lip, got up, and threw his cigarette out of the window, and looked at her reproachfully,

and felt vaguely that he was misunderstood and most unjustly placed upon the defensive.

"I only came over," Evadna went on, as sweetly as before, "to say that there's a package at the store which I

can't very well carry, and I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind taking itwhen you go."

Evadna rocked a moment longer, making him wait for her reply. She glanced at Miss Georgie still busy at the

telegraph table, gave a little sigh of resignation, and rose with evident reluctance.

Lovers, it would seem, require much less material for a quarrel than persons in a less exalted frame of mind.

Good Indian believed himself very much in love with his Christmas angel, and was very much inclined to let

her know it, but at the same time he saw no reason why he should not sit down in Miss Georgie's

rockingchair, if he liked, and he could not quite bring himself to explain even to Evadna his reason for

doing so. It humiliated him even to think of apologizing or explaining, and he was the type of man who

As to Evadna, her atmosphere was that of conscious and magnanimous superiority to any feeling so humanly

petty as jealousywhich is extremely irritating to anyone who is at all sensitive to atmospheric conditions.

She stopped outside the window long enough to chirp a commonplace sentence or two to Miss Georgie, and

to explain just why she couldn't stay a minute longer. "I told Aunt Phoebe I'd be back to lunchdinner, I

meanand she's so upset over those horrible men planted in the orcharddid Grant tell you about it?that

I feel I ought to be with her. And Marie has the toothache again. So I really must go. Goodbycome down

whenever you can, won't you?" She smiled, and she waved a hand, and she held up her ridingskirt daintily

as she turned away. "You didn't say goodby to Georgie," she reminded Grant, still making use of the chirpy

"I don't see how you could be," said Good Indian calmly; and that, for some reason, seemed to intensify the

She led Huckleberry up beside the store platform without giving Grant a chance to help, mounted, and started

on while he was in after the packagea roll not more than eight inches long, and weighing at least four

ounces, which brought an ironical smile to his lips. But she could not hope to outrun him on Huckleberry,

even when Huckleberry's nose was turned toward home, and he therefore came clattering up before she had

passed the straggling outpost of rusty tin cans which marked, by implication, the boundary line between

"Not particularly," she replied, still chirpy as to tone and supercilious as to her manner.

It would be foolish to repeat all that was said during that ride home, because so much meaning was conveyed

in tones and glances and in staring straight ahead and saying nothing. They were sparring politely before they

were over the brow of the hill behind the town; they were indulging in veiled sarcasmwhich came rapidly

out from behind the veil and grew sharp and bitterbefore they started down the dusty grade; they were not

saying anything at all when they rounded the Point o' Rocks and held their horses rigidly back from racing

home, as was their habit, and when they dismounted at the stable, they refused to look at each other upon any

Baumberger, in his shirtsleeves and smoking his big pipe, lounged up from the pasture gate where he had

been indolently rubbing the nose of a buckskin twoyearold with an affectionate disposition, and wheezed

out the information that it was warm. He got the chance to admire a very stiff pair of shoulders and a neck to

"I wasn't referring to your manner, m' son," he chuckled, after he had watched Good Indian jerk the latigo

loose and pull off the saddle, showing the wet imprint of it on Keno's hide. "I wish the weather was as cool!"

Good Indian half turned with the saddle in his hands, and slapped it down upon its side so close to

Baumberger that he took a hasty step backward, seized Keno's dragging bridlereins, and started for the

stable. Baumberger happened to be in the way, and he backed again, more hastily than before, to avoid being

"Snow blind?" he interrogated, forcing a chuckle which had more the sound of a growl.

Good Indian stopped in the doorway, slipped off the bridle, gave Keno a hint by slapping him lightly on the

rump, and when the horse had gone on into the cool shade of the stable, and taking his place in his stall,

began hungrily nosing the hay in his manger, he came back to unsaddle Huckleberry, who was nodding

sleepily with his under lip sagging much like Baumberger's while he waited. That gentleman seemed to be

once more obstructing the path of Good Indian. He dodged back as Grant brushed past him.

"By the great immortal Jehosaphat!" swore Baumberger, with an ugly leer in his eyes, "I never knew before

"You're so small in my estimation that a molecule would look like a haystack alongside you!" Good Indian

lifted the skirt of Evadna's sidesaddle, and proceeded calmly to loosen the cinch. His forehead smoothed a

trifle, as if that one sentence had relieved him of some of his bottled bitterness.

"YOU ain't shrunk up nonein your estimation," Baumberger forgot his pose of tolerant good nature to say.

His heavy jaw trembled as if he had been overtaken with a brief attack of palsy; so also did the hand which

replaced his pipe between his loosely quivering lips. "That little yellowhaired witch must have given yuh

the cold shoulder; but you needn't take it out on me. Had a quarrel?" He painstakingly brushed some ashes

from his sleeve, once more the wheezing, chuckling fat man who never takes anything very seriously.

"Did you ever try minding your own business?" Grant inquired with much politeness of tone.

"Weeell, yuh see, m' son, it's my business to mind other people's business!" He chuckled at what he

evidently considered a witty retort. "I've been pouring oil on the troubled waters all forenoonmaybe I've

"You're liable to start a conflagration you can't stop, and that may consume yourself, is all."

"Say, they sure do teach pretty talk in them colleges!" he purred, grinning loosely, his own speech purposely

Good Indian turned upon him, stopped as quickly, and let his anger vent itself in a sneer. It had occurred to

him that Baumberger was not goading him without purposebecause Baumberger was not that kind of man.

Oddly enough, he had a short, vivid, mental picture of him and the look on his face when he was playing the

trout; it seemed to him that there was something of that same cruel craftiness now in his eyes and around his

mouth. Good Indian felt for one instant as if he were that trout, and Baumberger was playing him skillfully.

"He's trying to make me let go all holds and tip my hand," he thought, keenly reading him, and he steadied

"What d'yuh mean by me pouring oil on fire!" Baumberger urged banteringly. "Sounds like the hero talking

"Don't repeat yourself, m' son; it's a sign uh failing powers. You said that to me this morning, remember?

Anddon'tgetexcited!" His right arm raised slightly when he said that, as if he expected a blow for his

Good Indian saw that involuntary arm movement, but he saw it from the tail of his eye, and he drew his lips a

little tighter. Clearly Baumberger was deliberately trying to force him into a rage that would spend some of

its force in threats, perhaps. He therefore grew cunningly calm, and said absolutely nothing. He led

Huckleberry into the stable, came out, and shut the door, and walked past Baumberger as if he were not there

at all. And Baumberger stood with his head lowered so that his flabby jaw was resting upon his chest, and

stared frowningly after him until the yard gate swung shut behind his tall, stiffly erect figure.

"I gotta WATCH that jasper," he mumbled over his pipe, as a sort of summing up, and started slowly to the

house. Halfway there he spoke again in the same mumbling undertone. "He's got the Injun look in his eyes

He did watch him. It is astonishing how a family can live for months together, and not realize how little real

privacy there is for anyone until something especial comes up for secret discussion. It struck Good Indian

forcibly that afternoon, because he was anxious for a word in private with Peaceful, or with Phoebe, and also

At dinner he could not speak without being heard by all. After dinner, the family showed an unconscious

disposition to "bunch." Peaceful and Baumberger sat and smoked upon that part of the porch which was

coolest, and the boys stayed close by so that they could hear what might be said about the amazing state of

Evadna, it is true, strolled rather selfconsciously off to the head of the pond, carefully refraining, as she

passed, from glancing toward Good Indian. He felt that she expected him to follow, but he wanted first to ask

Peaceful a few questions, and to warn him not to trust Baumberger, so he stayed where he was, sprawled

upon his back with a muchabused cushion under his head and his hat tilted over his face, so that he could

He did not gain anything by staying, for Peaceful had little to say, seeming to be occupied mostly with

dreamy meditations. He nodded, now and then, in response to Baumberger's rumbling monologues, and

occasionally he removed his pipe from his mouth long enough to reply with a sentence where the nod was not

sufficient. Baumberger droned on, mostly relating the details of cases he had won against long oddscases

Nothing had been done that day, Grant gathered, beyond giving the eight claimants due notice to leave. The

boys were evidently dissatisfied about something, though they said nothing. They shifted their positions with

pettish frequency, and threw away cigarettes only half smoked, and scowled at dancing leafshadows on the

When he could no longer endure the inaction, he rose, stretched his arms high above his head, settled his hat

into place, gave Jack a glance of meaning, and went through the kitchen to the milk~house. He felt sure that

Baumberger's ears were pricked toward the sound of his footsteps, and he made them purposely audible.

"Hello, Mother Hart," he called out cheerfully to Phoebe, pottering down in the coolness. "Any cream going

to waste, or buttermilk, or cake?" He went down to her, and laid his hand upon her shoulder with a caressing

touch which brought tears into her eyes. "Don't you worry a bit, little mother," he said softly. "I think we can

beat them at their own game. They've stacked the deck, but we'll beat it, anyhow." His hand slid down to her

"Oh, Grant, Grant!" She laid her forehead against him for a moment, then looked up at him with a certain

whimsical solicitude. "Never mind our trouble now. What's this about you and Vadnie? The boys seem to

think you two are going to make a match of it. And HAVE you been quarreling, you two? I only want," she

added, deprecatingly, "to see my biggest boy happy, and if I can do anything in any way to help"

"You can't, except just don't worry when we get to scrapping." His eyes smiled down at her with their old,

quizzical humor, which she had not seen in them for some days. "I foresee that we're due to scrap a good deal

of the time," he predicted. "We're both pretty peppery. But we'll make out, all right. You didn't"he blushed

"Didn't I?" Phoebe laughed at him openly. "I'd have been more surprised if you hadn't. Why, my grief! I

"Churning?" The voice of Baumberger purred down to them. There he stood bulkily at the top of the steps,

goodnaturedly regarding them. "Mr. Hart and I are goin' to take a ride up to the stationgotta send a

telegram or two about this little affair"he made a motion with his pipe toward the orchard"and I just

thought a good, cold drink of buttermilk before we start wouldn't be bad." His glance just grazed Good

"If you don't happen to have any handy, it don't matter in the least," he added, and turned to go when Phoebe

shook her head. "Anything we can get for yuh at the store, Mrs. Hart? Won't be any trouble at allOh, all

"We may be gone till suppertime," he explained further, "and I trust to your good sense, Mrs. Hart, to see

that the boys keep away from those fellows down there." The pipe, and also his head, again indicated the men

in the orchard. "We don't want any ill feeling stirred up, you understand, and so they'd better just keep away

from 'em. They're good boysthey'll do as you say." He leered at her ingratiatingly, shot a keen, questioning

Grant went to the top of the steps, and made sure that he had really gone before he said a word. Even then he

sat down upon the edge of the stairway with his back to the pond, so that he could keep watch of the

approaches to the springhouse; he had become an exceedingly suspicious young man overnight.

"Mother Hart, on the square, what do you think of Baumberger?" he asked her abruptly. "Come and sit down;

"Oh, GrantI don't know what to think! He seems all right, and I don't know why he shouldn't be just what

he seems; he's got the name of being a good lawyer. But somethingwell, I get notions about things

sometimes. And I can't, somehow, feel just right about him taking up this jumping business. I don't know

why. I guess it's just a feeling, because I can see you don't like him. And the boys don't seem to, either, for

some reason. I guess it's because he won't let 'em get right after those fellows and drive 'em off the ranch.

They've been uneasy as they could be all day." She sat down upon a rough stool just inside the door, and

looked up at him with troubled eyes. "And I'm getting it, tooseems like I'd go all to pieces if I can't do

SOMETHING!" She sighed, and tried to cover the sigh with a laughwhich was not, however, a great

success. "I wish I could be as coolheaded as Thomas," she said, with a tinge of petulance. "It don't seem to

"What does he think of Baumberger? Is he going to let him take the case and handle it to please himself?"

Good Indian was tapping his boottoe thoughtfully upon the bottom step, and glancing up now and then as a

"I guess so," she admitted, answering the last question first. "I haven't had a real good chance to talk to

Thomas all day. Baumberger has been with him most of the time. But I guess he is; anyway, Baumberger

seems to take it for granted he's got the case. Thomas hates to hurt anybody's feelings, and, even if he didn't

want him, he'd hate to say so. But he's as good a lawyer as any, I guess. And Thomas seems to like him well

enough. Thomas," she reminded Good Indian unnecessarily, "never does say much about anything."

"I'd like to get a chance to talk to him," Good Indian observed. "I'll have to just lead him off somewhere by

main strength, I guess. Baumberger sticks to him like a bur to a dog's tail. What are those fellows doing down

"You heard what he said to me just now," Phoebe said, impatiently. "He don't want anybody to go near. It's

terribly aggravating," she confessed dispiritedly, "to have a lot of ruffians camped down, cool as you please,

on your own ranch, and not be allowed to drive 'em off. I don't wonder the boys are all sulky. If Baumberger

wasn't here at all, I guess we'd have got rid of 'em before now. I don't know as I think very much of lawyers,

anyhow. I believe I'd a good deal rather fight first and go,to law about it afterward if I had to. But Thomas is

"I think I'll go down and have a look," said Good Indian suddenly. "I'm not under Baumberger's orders, if the

rest of the bunch is. And I wish you'd tell Peaceful I want to talk to him, Mother Hartwill you? Tell him to

ditch his guardian angel somehow. I'd like to see him on the quiet if I can, but if I can't"

"Can't be nice, and forgiving, and repentant, anda dear?" Evadna had crept over to him by way of the rocks

behind the pond, and at every pause in her questioning she pushed him forward by his two shoulders. "I'm so

furious I could beat you! What do you mean, savage, by letting a lady stay all afternoon by herself, waiting

for you to come and coax her into being nice to you? Don't you know I HAATE you?" She had him by the

ears, then, pulling his head erratically from side to side, and she finished by giving each ear a little slap and

laid her arms around his neck. "Please don't look at me that way, Aunt Phoebe," she said, when she

discovered her there inside the door. "Here's a horrible young villain who doesn't know how to behave, and

makes me do all the making up. I don't like him one bit, and I just came to tell him so and be done. And I

don't suppose," she added, holding her two hands tightly over his mouth, "he has a word to say for himself."

Since he was effectually gagged, Grant had not a word to say. Even when he had pulled her hands away and

held them prisoners in his own, he said nothing. This was Evadna in a new and unaccountable mood, it

seemed to him. She had certainly been very angry with him at noon. She had accused him, in that roundabout

way which seems to be a woman's favorite method of reaching a real grievance, of being fickle and neglectful

The things she had said to him on the way down the grade had rankled in his mind, and stirred all the sullen

pride in his nature to life, and he could not forget them as easily as she appeared to have done. Good Indian

was not in the habit of saying things, even in anger, which he did not mean, and he could not understand how

But here she was, nevertheless, laughing at him and blushing adorably because he still held her fast, and

"Don't scold me, Aunt Phoebe," she begged, perhaps because there was something in Phoebe's face which she

did not quite understand, and so mistook for disapproval of her behavior. "I should have told you last night

that we'rewell, I SUPPOSE we're supposed to be engaged!" She twisted her hands away from him, and

came down the steps to her aunt. "It all happened so unexpectedlyreally, I never dreamed I cared anything

for him, Aunt Phoebe, until he made me care. And last night I couldn't tell you, and this morning I was going

to, but all this horrible trouble came upand, anyway," she finished with a flash of pretty indignation, "I

think Grant might have told you himself! I don't think it's a bit nice of him to leave everything like that for

me. He might have told you before he went chasing off toto Hartley." She put her arms around her aunt's

neck. "You aren't angry, are you, Aunt Phoebe?" she coaxed. "Youyou know you said you wanted me to

"Great grief, child! You needn't choke me to death. Of course I'm not angry." But Phoebe's eyes did not

"I've got plenty to be worked up over, without worrying over your love affairs, Vadnie." Phoebe's eyes sought

Grant's anxiously. "I don't doubt but what it's more important to you than anything else on earth, but I'm

"Oh, I'm sorry I interrupted you then, Aunt Phoebe. I suppose you and Grant were busy discussing those men

"Don't be silly, child. You aren't interrupting anybody, and there's no call for you to run off like that. We

In some respects the mind of Good Indian was extremely simple and direct. His knowledge of women was

rudimentary and based largely upon his instincts rather than any experience he had had with them. He had

been extremely uncomfortable in the knowledge that Evadna was angry, and strongly impelled, in spite of his

hurt pride, to make overtures for peace. He was puzzled, as well as surprised, when she seized him by the

shoulders and herself made peace so bewitchingly that he could scarcely realize it at first. But since fate was

kind, and his lady love no longer frowned upon him, he made the mistake of taking it for granted she neither

asked nor expected him to explain his seeming neglect of her and his visit to Miss Georgie at Hartley.

She was not angry with him. Therefore, he was free to turn his whole attention to this trouble which had

come upon his closest friends. He reached out, caught Evadna by the hand, pulled her close to him, and

smiled upon her in a way to make her catch her breath in a most unaccountable manner.

But he did not say anything to her; he was a young man unused to dalliance when there were serious things at

"I'm going down there and see what they're up to," he told Phoebe, giving Evadna's hand a squeeze and

letting it go. "I suspect there's something more than keeping the peace behind Baumberger's anxiety to have

"Are you going down in the orchard?" Evadna rounded her unbelievably blue eyes at him. "Then I'm going

"You'll do nothing of the kind, little Miss Muffit," he declared from the top step.

"I'm going a little way, whether you want me to or not," Evadna threatened, pouting more than ever.

She did go as far as the porch with him, and was kissed and sent back like a child. She did not, however, go

back to her aunt, but ran into her own room, where she could look out through the grove toward the

orchardand to the stable as well, though that view did not interest her particularly at first. It was pure

A grimy buck with no hat of any sort and with his hair straggling unbraided over one side of his face to

conceal a tumor which grew just over his left eye like a large, ripe plum, stood outside the gate, in doubt

whether to enter or remain where he was. When he saw Good Indian he grunted, fumbled in his blanket, and

Good Indian took the envelope, thinking it must be a telegram, though he could not imagine who would be

sending him one. His name was written plainly upon the outside, and within was a short note scrawled upon a

"Mebbyso one hour." The buck pulled a brass watch ostentatiously from under his blanket, held it to his ear a

moment, as if he needed auricular assurance that it was running properly, and pointed to the hour of three.

"You see Peaceful in Hartley?" Good Indian asked the question from an idle impulse; in reality, he was

"Peacefu', him go far off. On train. All same heap fat man go 'long. Mebbyso Shoshone, mebbyso Pocatello."

Good Indian looked down at the note, and frowned; that, probably, was what she had meant to tell him,

though he could not see where the knowledge was going to help him any. If Peaceful had gone to Shoshone,

he was gone, and that settled it. Undoubtedly he would return the next dayperhaps that night, even. He was

beginning to feel the need of a quiet hour in which to study the tangle, but he had a suspicion that

Baumberger had some reason other than a desire for peace in wanting the jumpers left to themselves, and he

But Good Indian went on without paying any attention to him. At the road he met Jack and Wally, just

"No use going down there," Jack informed him sulkily. "They're just laying in the shade with their guns

handy, doing nothing. They won't let anybody cross their line, and they won't say anythingnot even when

you cuss 'em. Wally and I got black in the face trying to make them come alive. Baumberger got back yet?

"He and your dad took the train for Shoshone. Say, does anyone know what that bunch over in the meadow is

"Clark and Gene are over there," said Wally. "But I'd gamble they aren't doing any more than these fellows

are. They haven't started to pan out any dirtthey haven't done a thing, it looks like, but lay around in the

shade. I must say I don't sabe their play. And the worst of it is," he added desperately, "a fellow can't do

"I'm going to break out pretty darned sudden," Jack observed calmly. "I feel it coming on." He smiled, but

"Now, you fellows' listen to me," he said. "This thing is partly my fault. I could have prevented it, maybe, if I

hadn't been so taken up with my own affairs. Old Peppajee told me Baumberger was up to some devilment

when he first came down here. He heard him talking to Saunders in Pete Hamilton's stable. And the first night

he was here, Peppajee and I saw him down at the stable at midnight, talking to someone. Peppajee kept on his

trail till he got that snake bite, and he warned me a plenty. But I didn't take much stock in itor if I did"

"So," he went on, after a minute of bitter thinking, "I want you to keep out of this. You know how your

mother would feelYou don't want to get foolish. You can keep an eye on themtonight especially. I've

an idea they're waiting for dark; and if I knew why, I'd be a lot to the good. And if I knew why old

Baumberger took your father off so suddenly, whyI'd be wiser than I am now." He lifted his hat, brushed

the moisture from his forehead, and gave a grunt of disapproval when his eyes rested on Jack.

"What yuh loaded down like that for?" he demanded. "You fellows better put those guns in cold storage. I'm

like Baumberger in one respectwe don't want any violence!" He grinned without any feeling of mirth.

"Something else is liable to be put in cold storage first," Wally hinted, significantly. "I must say I like this

standing around and looking dangerous, without making a pass! I wish something would break loose

"I notice you're packing yours, large as life," Jack pointed out. "Maybe you're just wearing it for an ornament,

"Sure!" Good Indian, feeling all at once the utter futility of standing there talking, left them grumbling over

their forced inaction, without explaining where he was going, or what he meant to do. Indeed, he scarcely

knew himself. He was in that uncomfortable state of mind where one feels that one must do something,

without having the faintest idea of what that something is, or how it is to be done. It seemed to him that they

were all in the same mental befuddlement, and it seemed impossible to stay on the ranch another hour without

making a hostile move of some sortand he knew that, when he did make a move, he at least ought to know

The note in his pocket gave him an excuse for action of some sort, even though he felt sure that nothing

would come of it; at least, he thought, he would have a chance to discuss the thing with Miss Georgie

againand while he was not a man who must have everything put into words, he had found comfort and a

"Why don't you invite me to go along?" Evadna challenged from the gate, when he was ready to start. She

laughed when she said it, but there was something beneath the laughter, if he had only been close enough to

"I didn't think you'd want to ride through all that dust and heat again today," he called back. "You're better

"Going to call on 'Squawtalkfaroff'AGAIN?" She was still laughing, with something else beneath the

He glanced at her quickly, wondering where she had gotten the name, and in his wonder neglected to make

audible reply. Also he passed over the change to ride back to the gate and tell her goodbywith a hasty

He was not used to lovemaking. For him, it was settled that they loved each other, and would marry some

dayhe hoped the day would be soon. It did not occur to him that a girl wants to be told over and over that

she is the only woman in the whole world worth a second thought or glance; nor that he should stop and say

just where he was going, and what he meant to do, and how reluctant he was to be away from her. Trouble sat

upon his mind like a dead weight, and dulled his perception, perhaps. He waved his hand to her from the

stable, and galloped down the trail to the Point o' Rocks, and his mind, so far as Evadna was concerned, was

Evadna, however, was crying, with her arms folded upon the top of the gate, before the cloud which marked

his passing had begun to sprinkle the gaunt, gray sagebushes along the trail with a fresh layer of choking dust.

Jack and Wally came up, scowling at the world and finding no words to match their gloom. Wally gave her a

glance, and went on to the blacksmith shop, but Jack went straight up to her, for he liked her well.

"What's the matter?" he asked dully. "Mad because you can't smoke up the ranch?"

Evadna fumbled blindly for her handkerchief, scoured her eyes well when she found it, and put up the other

"Oh, the whole place is like a GRAVEYARD," she complained. "Nobody will talk, or do anything but just

"It's too hot to do much of anything," he said apologetically. "We might take a ride, if you don't mind the

"You don't want to ride," she objected petulantly. "Why didn't you go with Good Indian?" he countered.

"Because I didn't want to. And I do wish you'd quit calling him that; he has a real name, I believe."

"If you're looking for a scrap," grinned Jack, "I'll stake you to my six gun, and you can go down and kill off a

few of those claimjumpers. You seem to be in just about the proper frame uh mind to murder the whole

"It begins to look as if we women would have to do something," she retorted cruelly. "There doesn't seem to

be a man on the ranch with spirit enough to stop them from digging up the whole"

"I guess that'll be about enough," Jack interrupted her, coldly. "Why didn't you say that to Good Indian?"

"I told you not to call him that. I don't see why everybody is so mean today. There isn't a person"

When Jack laughed, he shut his eyes until he looked through narrow slits under heavy lashes, and showed

some very nice teeth, and two deep dimples besides the one which always stood in his chin. He laughed then,

for the first time that day, and if Evadna had been in a less vixenish temper she would have laughed with him

just as everyone else always did. But instead of that, she began to cry again, which made Jack feel very much

"Oh, come on and be good," he urged remorsefully. But Evadna turned and ran back into the house and into

her room, and cried luxuriously into her pillow. Jack, peeping in at the window which opened upon the porch,

In the springhouse his mother sat crying silently over her helplessness, and failed to respond to his

comforting pats upon the shoulder. Donny struck at him viciously when Jack asked him an idle question, and

Charlie, the Indian with the tumor over his eye, scowled from the corner of the house where he was squatting

until someone offered him fruit, or food, or tobacco. He was of an acquisitive nature, was Charlieand the

"This is what I call hell," Jack stated aloud, and went straight away to the strawberry patch, took up his stand

with his toes against Stanley's corner stake, cursed him methodically until he had quite exhausted his

vocabulary, and put a period to his forceful remarks by shooting a neat, round hole through Stanley's

By the time he had succeeded in puncturing recklessly the fryingpan, and also the battered pan in which

Stanley no doubt meant to wash his samples of soil, his good humor returned. So also did the other boys,

running in long leaps through the garden and arriving at the spot very belligerent and very much out of

"Got to do something to pass away the time," Jack grinned, bringing his front sight once more to bear upon

the coffeepot, already badly dented and showing three black holes. "And I ain't offering any violence to

anybody. You can't hang a man, Mr. Stanley, for shooting up a fryingpan. And I wouldn'thurt

youforanything!" He had just reloaded, so that his bullets saw him to the end of the sentence.

Stanley watched his coffeepot dance and roll like a thing in pain, and swore when all was done. But he did

not shoot, though one could see how his fingers must itch for the feel of the trigger.

"Your old dad will sweat blood for thisand you'll be packing your blanket on your back and looking for

When Phoebe came running in terror toward the fusillade, with Marie and her swollen face, and Evadna and

her red eyes following in great trepidation far behind, they found four claimjumpers purple from long

swearing, and the boys gleefully indulging in revolver practice with various camp utensils for the targets.

They stopped when their belts were empty as well as their guns, and they went back to the house with the

women, feeling much better. Afterward they searched the house for more "shells," clattering from room to

room, and looking into cigar boxes and upon outoftheway shelves, while Phoebe expostulated in the

"Your father would put a stop to it pretty quick if he was here," she declared over and over. "Just because

they didn't shoot back this time is no sign they won't next time you boys go to hectoring them." All the while

she knew she was wasting her breath, and she had a secret fear that her manner and her tones were

unconvincing. If she had been a man, she would have been their leader, perhaps. So she retreated at last to her

favorite refuge, the milkhouse, and tried to cover her secret approval with grumbling to herself.

There was a lull in the house. The boys, it transpired, had gone in a body to Hartley after more cartridges, and

the cloud of dust which hovered long over the trail testified to their haste. They returned surprisingly soon,

and they would scarcely wait for their supper before they hurried back through the garden. One would think

They dug themselves trenches in various parts of the garden, laid themselves gleefully upon their stomachs,

and proceeded to exchange, at the top of their strong, young voices, ideas upon the subject of claimjumping,

and to punctuate their remarks with leaden periods planted neatly and with precision in the immediate

They had some trouble with Donny, because he was always jumping up that he might yell the louder when

one of the enemy was seen to step about uneasily whenever a bullet pinged closer than usual, and the rifles

began to bark viciously now and then. It really was unsafe for one to dance a clog, with flapping arms and

They ordered him back to the house; they threw clods of earth at his bare legs; they threatened and they

swore, but it was not until Wally got him by the collar and shook him with brotherly thoroughness that

They were just giving themselves wholly up to the sport of sending little spurts of loose earth into the air as

close as was safe to Stanley, and still much too close for his peace of mind or that of his fellows, when Donny

He fired once from the thicket of currant bushes, and, from the remarks which Stanley barked out in yelping

staccato, he punctured that gentleman's person in several places with the fine shot of which the charge

consisted. He would have fired again if the recoil had not thrown him quite off his balance, and it is possible

that someone would have been killed as a result. For Stanley began firing with murderous intent, and only the

Good Indian had talked long with Miss Georgie, and had agreed with her that, for the present at least, there

must be no violence. He had promised her flatly that he would do all in his power to keep the peace, and he

had gone again to the Indian camp to see if Peppajee or some of his fellows could give him any information

Saunders had disappeared unaccountably, after a surreptitious conference with Baumberger the day before,

and it was that which Miss Georgie had to tell him. Saunders was in the habit of sleeping late, so that she did

not know until noon that he was gone. Pete was worried, and garrulously feared the worst. The worst,

Miss Georgie asserted unfeelingly that Saunders was more in danger of dying from sheer laziness than of

consumption, and she even went so far as to hint cynically, that even his laziness was largely hypocritical.

"I don't believe there's a single honest thing about the fellow," she said to Good Indian. "When he coughs, it

sounds as if he just did it for effect. When he lies in the shade asleep, I've seen him watching people from

under his lids. When he reads, his ears seem always pricked up to hear everything that's going on, and he

gives those nasty little slanty looks at everybody within sight. I don't believe he's really gonebecause I

can't imagine him being really anything. But I do believe he's up to something mean and sneaky, and, since

Peppajee has taken this matter to heart, maybe he can find out something. I think you ought to go and see

So Good Indian had gone to the Indian camp, and had afterward ridden along the rim of the bluff, because

Sleeping Turtle had seen someone walking through the sagebrush in that direction. From the rimrock above

the ranch, Good Indian had heard the shooting, though the trees hid from his sight what was taking place, and

He might have gone straight down the bluff afoot, through a rift in the rimrock where it was possible to

climb down into the fissure and squeeze out through a narrow opening to the bowlderpiled bluff. But that

took almost as much time as he would consume in riding around, and so he galloped back to the grade and

went down at a pace to break his neck and that of Keno as well if his horse stumbled.

He reached home in time to see Donny run across the road with the shotgun, and the orchard in time to

prevent a general rush upon Stanley and his fellowswhich was fortunate. He got them all out of the garden

and into the house by sheer determination and biting sarcasm, and bore with surprising patience their angry

upbraidings. He sat stoically silent while they called him a coward and various other things which were

unpleasant in the extreme, and he even smiled when they finally desisted and trailed off sullenly to bed.

But when they were gone he sat alone upon the porch, brooding over the day and all it had held of trouble and

perplexity. Evadna appeared tentatively in the open door, stood there for a minute or two waiting for some

overture upon his part, gave him a chilly goodnight when she realized he was not even thinking of her, and

left him. So great was his absorption that he let her go, and it never occurred to him that she might possibly

consider herself illused. He would have been distressed if he could have known how she cried herself to

Good Indian was going to the stable to feed the horses next morning, when something whined past him and

spatted viciously against the side of the chickenhouse. Immediately afterward he thought he heard the sharp

crack which a rifle makes, but the wind was blowing strongly up the valley, and he could not be sure.

He went over to the chickenhouse, probed with his knifeblade into the plank where was the splintered

hole, and located a bullet. He was turning it curiously in his fingers when another one plunked into the

boards, three feet to one side of him; this time he was sure of the gunsound, and he also saw a puff of blue

smoke rise up on the rimrock above him. He marked the place instinctively with his eyes, and went on to the

Inside, he sat down upon the oatsbox, and meditated upon what he should do. He could not even guess at his

assailant, much less reach him. A dozen men could be picked off by a rifle in the hands of one at the top,

Even if one succeeded in reaching the foot of the rimrock, there was a fortyfoot wall of unscalable rock,

with just the one narrow fissure where it was possible to climb up to the level above, by using both hands to

cling to certain sharp projections while the feet sought a niche here and there in the wall. Easy enoughif

one were but left to climb in peace, but absolutely suicidal if an enemy stood above.

He scowled through the little paneless window at what he could see of the bluff, and thought of the milelong

grade to be climbed and the rough stretch of lava rock, sage, and scattered bowlders to be gone over before

one could reach the place upon a horse. Whoever was up there, he would have more than enough time to get

completely away from the spot before it would be possible to gain so much as a glimpse of him.

And who could he be? And why was he shooting at Good Indian, so far a noncombatant, guiltless of even

Wally came in, his hat far back on his head, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, and his manner an odd

mixture of conciliation and defiance, ready to assume either wholeheartedly at the first word from the man

he had cursed so unstintingly before he slept. He looked at Good Indian, caught sight of the leaden pellet he

was thoughtfully turning round and round in his fingers, and chose to ignore for the moment any

Wally reached out, and took the bullet from him that he might juggle it curiously in his own fingers. "I don't

"There's another one there to match this," Good Indian stated calmly, "and if I should walk over there after it,

Wally dropped the flattened bullet, stooped, and groped for it in the litter on the floor, and when he had found

it he eyed it more curiously than before. But he would have died in his tracks rather than ask a question.

"Didn't anybody take a shot at you, as you came from the house?" Good Indian asked when he saw the mood

"If he did, he was careful not to let me find it out." Wally's expression hardened.

"He was more careless a while ago," said Good Indian. "Some fellow up on the bluff sent me a little morning

salute. But," he added slowly, and with some satisfaction, "he's a mighty poor shot."

Jack sauntered in much as Wally had done, saw Good Indian sitting there, and wrinkled his eyes shut in a

"Please, sir, I never meant a word I said!" he began, with exaggerated trepidation. "Why the dickens didn't

you murder the whole yapping bunch of us, Grant?" He clapped his hand affectionately upon the other's

shoulder. "We kinda run amuck yesterday afternoon," he confessed cheerfully, "but it sure was fun while it

"There's liable to be some more fun of the same kind," Wally informed him shortly. "Good Injun says

someone on the bluff took a shot at him when he was coming to the stable. If any of them jumpers"

"It's easy to find out if it was one of them," Grant cut in, as if the idea had just come to him. We can very

They went out guardedly, their eyes upon the rimrock. Good Indian led the way through the corral, into the

little pasture, and across that to where the long wall of giant poplars shut off the view.

"I admire courage," he grinned, "but I sure do hate a fool." Which was all the explanation he made for the

detour that hid them from sight of anyone stationed upon the bluff, except while they were passing from the

Coming up from the rear, they surprised Stanley and one other peacefully boiling coffee in a lard pail which

they must have stolen in the night from the ranch junk heap behind the blacksmith shop. The three peered out

at them from a distant ambush, made sure that there were only two men there, and went on to the disputed

part of the meadows. There the four were pottering about, craning necks now and then toward the ranch

buildings as if they half feared an assault of some kind. Good Indian led the way back to the stable.

"If there was any way of getting around up there without being seen," he began thoughtfully, "but there isn't.

And while I think of it," he added, "we don't want to let the women know about this."

"They're liable to suspect something," Wally reminded dryly, "if one of us gets laid out cold."

Good Indian laughed. "It doesn't look as if he could hit anything smaller than a haystack. And anyway, I

think I'm the boy he's after, though I don't see why. I haven't done a thingyet."

"Let's feed the horses and then pace along to the house, one at a time, and find out," was Jack's reckless

suggestion. "Anybody that knows us at all can easy tell which is who. And I guess it would be tolerably safe."

Foolhardy as the thing looked to be, they did it, each after his own manner of facing a known danger. Jack

went first because, as he said, it was his idea, and he was willing to show his heart was in the right place. He

rolled and lighted a cigarette, wrinkled his eyes shut in a laugh, and strolled nonchalantly out of the stable.

"Keep an eye on the rimrock, boys," he called back, without turning his head. A third of the way he went,

stopped dead still, and made believe inspect something upon the ground at his feet.

Jack dug his heel into the dust, blew the ashes from his cigarette, and went on slowly to the gate, passed

Wally snorted disdain of any proceeding so spectacular, but he was as he was made, and he could not keep

his daredevil spirit quite in abeyance. He twitched his hat farther back on his head, stuck his hands deep into

his pockets, and walked deliberately out into the open, his neck as stiff as a newly elected politician on

parade. He did not stop, as Jack had done, but he facetiously whistled "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are

marching," and he went at a pace which permitted him to finish the tune before he reached the gate. He joined

Jack in the shade, and his face, when he looked back to the stable, was anxious.

"It must be Grant he wants, all right," he muttered, resting one hand on Jack's shoulder and speaking so he

could not be overheard from the house. "And I wish to the Lord he'd stay where he's at."

But Good Indian was already two paces from the door, coming steadily up the path, neither faster nor slower

than usual, with his eyes taking in every object within sight as he went, and his thumb hooked inside his belt,

near where his gun swung at his hip. It was not until his free hand was upon the gate that lack and Wally

"Wellhere I am," said Good Indian, after a minute, smiling down at them with the sunny look in his eyes.

"I'm beginning to think I had a dream. Only"he dipped his fingers into the pocket of his shirt and brought

up the flattened bullet"that is pretty blamed realisticfor a dream." His eyes searched involuntarily the

rimrock with a certain incredulity, as if he could not bring himself to believe in that bullet, after all.

"But two of the jumpers are gone," said Wally. "I reckon we stirred 'em up some yesterday, and they're trying

"They've picked a dandy place," Good Indian observed. "I think maybe it would be a good idea to hold that

Phoebe, heavyeyed and pale from wakefulness and worry, came then, and called them in to breakfast. Gene

and Clark came in, sulky still, and inclined to snappishness when they did speak. Donny announced that he

had been in the garden, and that Stanley told him he would blow the top of his head off if he saw him there

"I want you boys to remember one thing," she said firmly, "and that is that there must be no more shooting

going on around here. It isn't only what Baumberger thinksI don't know as ho's got anything to say about

itit's what _I_ think. I know I'm only a woman, and you all consider yourselves men, whether you are or

"But your mother has seen the day when she was counted on as much, almost, as if she'd been a man. Why,

great grief! I've stood for hours peeking out a knothole in the wall, with that same old shotgun Donny got

hold of, ready to shoot the first Injun that stuck his nose from behind a rock."

The color came into her cheeks at the memory, and a sparkle into her eyes. "I've seen real fighting, when it

was a lifeanddeath matter. I've tended to the men that were shot before my eyes, and I've sung hymns over

them that died. You boys have grown up on some of the stories about the things I've been through.

"And here last night," she reproached irritatedly, I heard someone say: 'Oh, come onwe're scaring Mum to

death!' The idea! 'scaring Mum!' I can tell you young jackanapes one thing: If I thought there was anything to

be gained by it, or if it would save trouble instead of MAKING trouble,'MUM' could go down there right

now, old as she is, and SCARED as she is, and clean out the whole, measly outfit!" She stared sternly at the

"Oh, you can laughit's only your mother!" she exclaimed indignantly, when she saw Jack's eyes go shut

and Gene's mouth pucker into a tight knot. "But I'll have you to know I'm boss of this ranch when your

father's gone, and if there's any more of that kid foolishness todaylaying behind a currant bush and

shooting COFFEEPOTS!I'll thrash the fellow that starts it! It isn't the kind of fighting I'VE been used to.

I may be away behind the timesI guess I am!but I've always been used to the idea that guns weren't to

be used unless you meant business. This thing of getting out and PLAYING gunfight is kinda sickening to a

"'Scaring Mum to death!"' She seemed to find it very hard to forget that, or to forgive it. "'SCARING

MUM'and Jack, there, was born in the time of an Indian uprising, and I laid with your father's revolver on

the pillow where I could put my hand on it, day or night! YOU scare Mum! MUM will scare YOU, if there's

any more of that let'splayInjun business going on around this ranch. Why, I'd lead you down there by the

"Mum can whip her weight in wildcats any old time," Wally announced after a heavy silence, and glared

As was frequently the case, the wave of Phoebe's wrath ebbed harmlessly away in laughter as the humorous

"Just the same, I want you should mind what I tell you," she said, in her old motherly tone, "and keep away

from those ruffians down there. You can't do anything but make 'em mad, and give 'em an excuse for killing

"All right, Mum. We won't look toward the garden today," Wally promised largely, and held out his cup to

"No, I can trust my boys, I hope," and she glowed with real pride in them when she said it.

Good Indian lingered on the porch for half an hour or so, waiting for Evadna to appear. She may have seen

him through the windowat any rate she slipped out very quietly, and had her breakfast half eaten before he

suspected that she was up; and when he went into the kitchen, she was talking animatedly with Marie about

Mexican drawnwork, and was drawing intricate little diagrams of certain patterns with her fork upon the

She looked up, and gave him a careless greeting, and went back to discussing certain "wheels" in the corner

of an imaginary lunchcloth and just how one went about making them. He made a tentative remark or two,

trying to win her attention to himself, but she pushed her cup and saucer aside to make room for further fork

"Don't interrupt, please," she said mincingly. "This is IMPORTANT. And," she troubled to explain, "I'm

If she thought that would fix his determination to remain and have her to himself for a few minutes, she was

mistaken in her man. Good Indian turned on his heel, and went out with his chin in the air, and found that

Gene and Clark had gone off to the meadow, with Donny an unwelcome attendant, and that Wally and Jack

were keeping the dust moving between the gate and the stable, trying to tempt a shot from the bluff. They

were much inclined to be skeptical regarding the bullet which Good Indian carried in his breastpocket.

"WE can't raise anybody," Wally told him disgustedly, "and I've made three round trips myself. I'm going to

Whether he did or not, Good Indian did not wait to prove. He did not say anything, either, about his own

plans. He was hurt most unreasonably because of Evadna's behavior, and he felt as if he were groping about

blindfolded so far as the Hart trouble was concerned. There must be something to do, but he could not see

what it was. It reminded him oddly of when he sat down with his algebra open before him, and scowled at a

problem where the x y z's seemed to be sprinkled through it with a diabolical frequency, and there was no

He saddled Keno, and rode away in that silent preoccupation which the boys called the sulks for want of a

better understanding of it. As a matter of fact, he was trying to put Evadna out of his mind for the present, so

that he could think clearly of what he ought to do. He glanced often up at the rimrock as he rode slowly to

the Point o' Rocks, and when he was halfway to the turn he thought he saw something moving up there.

He pulled up to make sure, and a little blue ball puffed out like a child's balloon, burst, and dissipated itself in

a thin, trailing ribbon, which the wind caught and swept to nothing. At the same time something spatted into

Keno started, perked up his ears toward the place, and went on, stepping gingerly. Good Indian's lips drew

back, showing his teeth set tightly together. "Still at it, eh?" he muttered aloud, pricked Keno's flanks with his

There, for the time being, he was safe. Unless the shooter upon the rimrock was mounted, he must travel

swiftly indeed to reach again a point within range of the grade road before Good Indian would pass out of

sight again. For the trail wound in and out, looping back upon itself where the hill was oversleep, hidden part

Grant knew that he was safe from that quarter, and was wondering whether he ought to ride up along the top

He had almost reached the level, and was passing a steep, narrow, little gully choked with rocks, when

something started up so close beside him that Keno ducked away and squatted almost upon his haunches. His

gun was in his hand, and his finger crooked upon the trigger, when a voice he faintly recognized called to him

"Yo' no shootno shootme no hurtum. All time yo' frien'." She stood trembling beside the trail, a gay,

plaid shawl about her shoulders in place of the usual blanket, her hair braided smoothly with bright, red

ribbons entwined through it. Her dress was a plain slip of bright calico, which had fourinch roses, very

briery and each with a gaudy butterfly poised upon the topmost petals running over it in an inextricable

tangle. Beaded moccasins were on her feet, and her eyes were frightened eyes, with the wistfulness of a timid

"I sorry I scare yo' horse," she said hesitatingly, speaking better English than before. "I heap hurry to get here.

"Well, what is it?" Good Indian's tone was not as brusque as his words; indeed, he spoke very gently, for him.

This was the goodlooking young squaw he had seen at the Indian camp. "What's your name?" he asked,

"Rachel. Peppajee, he my uncle." She glanced up at him shyly, then down to where the pliant toe of her

moccasin was patting a tiny depression into the dust. "Bad mans like for shoot yo'," she said, not looking

directly at him again. "Him up there, all time walk where him can look down, mebbyso see you, mebbyso

"I knowI'm going to ride around that way and round him up." Unconsciously his manner had the arrogance

"No, noo!" She drew a sharp breath " o' no good there! Dim shoot yo'. Yo' no go! AhhI sorry I tellum

yo' now. Bad mans, him. I watch, I take care him no shoot. Him shoot, mebbyso _I_ shoot!"

With a little laugh that was more a plea for gentle judgment than anything else, she raised the plaid shawl,

and gave him a glimpse of a rather battered revolver, cheap when it was new and obviously well past its

"I want yo'" she hesitated; "I want yo'be heap careful. I want yo' no ride close by hill. Ride far out!" She

He was staring at her in a puzzled way. She was handsome, after her wild, halfcivilized type, and her

"Indians go far down" She swept her arm down the narrowing river valley. "Catch fish. Peppajee stayno

can walk far. I stay. All go, mebbyso stay five days." Her hand lifted involuntarily to mark the number.

He did not know why she told him all that, and he could not learn from her anything about his assailant. She

had been walking along the bluff, he gatheredthough why, she failed to make clear to him. She had, from a

distance, caught a glimpse of a man watching the valley beneath him. She had seen him raise a rifle, take long

When he asked her the second time what was her errand up therewhether she was following the man, or

had suspected that he would be thereshe shook her head vaguely and took refuge behind the stolidity of her

In spite of her pleading, he put his horse to scrambling up the first slope which it was possible to climb, and

spent an hour riding, gun in hand, along the rim of the bluff, much as he had searched it the evening before.

But there was nothing alive that he could discover, except a hawk which lifted itself languorously off a high,

sharp rock, and flapped lazily out across the valley when he drew near. The man with the rifle had

disappeared as completely as if he had never been there, and there was not one chance in a hundred of

When he was turning back at last toward Hartley, he saw Rachel for a moment standing out against the deep

blue of the sky, upon the very rim of the bluff. He waved a hand to her, but she gave no sign; only, for some

reason, he felt that she was watching him ride away, and he had a brief, vagrant memory of the wistfulness he

On the heels of that came a vision of Evadna swinging in the hammock which hung between the two locust

trees, and he longed unutterably to be with her there. He would be, he promised himself, within the next hour

or so, and set his pace in accordance with his desire, resolved to make short work of his investigations in

He had not, it seemed to him, had more than two minutes with Evadna since that evening of rapturous

memory when they rode home together from the Malad, and afterward sat upon the stone bench at the head of

the pond, whispering together so softly that they did not even disturb the frogs among the lilypads within

ten feet of them. It was not so long ago, that evening. The time that had passed since might be reckoned

"I have every reason to believe that your two missing jumpers took the train for Shoshone last night," Miss

Georgie made answer to Good Indian's account of what had happened since he saw her." Two furtiveeyed

individuals answering your description bought roundtrip tickets and had me flag sixteen for them. They got

on, all right. I saw them. And if they got off before the next station they must have landed on their heads,

because Sixteen was making up time and Shorty pulled the throttle wide open at the first yank, I should

judge, from the way he jumped out of town. I've been expecting some of them to go and do their filing

stuntand if the boys have begun to devil them any, the chances are good that they'd take turns at it,

"And Saunders," she went on rapidly, "returned safe enough. He sneaked in just before I closed the office last

night, and asked for a telegram. There wasn't any, and he sneaked out again and went to bedso Pete told

me this morning. And most of the Indians have pulled outsquaws, dogs, papooses, and allon some

fishing or hunting expedition. I don't know that it has anything to do with your affairs, or would even interest

you, though. And there has been no word from Peaceful, and they can't possibly get back now till the

"And that's all I can tell you, Mr. Imsen," she finished crisply, and took up a novel with a significance which

"Thank you for the information. I'm afraid this has been a lot of bother for you," he said stiffly, gave her a

Miss Georgie leaned forward so that she could see him through the window. She watched him cross to the

store, go up the three rough steps to the platform, and disappear into the yawning blackness beyond the

She did not open the novel and begin reading, even then. She dabbed her handkerchief at her eyes, muttered:

"My Heavens, what a fool!" apropos of nothing tangible, and stared dully out at the forlorn waste of cinders

with rows of shining rails running straight across it upon ties half sunken in the black desolation, and at the

red abomination which was the pumphouse squatting beside the dripping tank, the pump breathing

asthmatically as it labored to keep the sliding water gauge from standing at the figure which meant reproach

"What a foolwhat a fool!" she repeated at the end of ten moody minutes. Then she threw the novel into a

corner of the room, set her lower jaw into the square lines of stubbornness, went over to the sleeping

telegraph instrument which now and then clicked and twittered in its sleep, called up Shoshone, and

commanded the agent there to send down a quart freezer of ice cream, a banana cake, and all the late

"You certainlyarethe prizefool!" she said, when she switched off the current, and she said it with

vicious emphasis. Whereupon she recovered the novel, seated herself determinedly in the beribboned rocker,

flipped the leaves of the book spitefully until she found one which had a corner turned down, and read a

gardenparty chapter much as she used to study her multiplication table when she was ten and hated

A freight was announced over the wire, arrived with a great wheezing and snorting, which finally settled to a

rhythmic gasping of the air pump, while a few boxes of store supplies were being dumped unceremoniously

upon the platform. Miss Georgie was freight agent as well as many other things, and she went out and stood

She performed, with the unthinking precision which comes of long practice, the many little duties pertaining

to her several offices, and when the wheels began once more to clank, and she had waved her hand to the

fireman, the brakeman, and the conductor, and had seen the dirty flags at the rear of the swaying caboose flap

out of sight around the low, sagecovered hill, she turned rather dismally to the parlor end of the office, and

took up the book with her former air of grim determination. So for an hour, perhaps.

"Is Miss Georgie Howard at home?" It was Evadna standing in the doorway, her indigo eyes fixed with

innocent gayetywhich her mouth somehow failed to meet halfway in mirthupon the reader.

"She is, chicken, and overjoyed at the sight of you!" Miss Georgie rose just as enthusiastically as if she had

not seen Evadna slip from Huckleberry's back, fuddle the tierope into what looked like a knot, and step

lightly upon the platform. She had kept her head downhad Miss Georgieuntil the last possible second,

because she was still being a fool and had permitted a page of her book to fog before her eyes. There was no

fog when she pushed Evadna into the seat of honor, however, and her mouth abetted her eyes in smiling.

"Everything at tho ranch is perfectly horrid," Evadna complained pathetically, leaning back in the

rockingchair. "I'd just as soon be shut up in a graveyard. You can't IMAGINE what it's like, Georgie, since

those horrible men came and camped around all over the place! All yesterday afternoon and till dark, mind

you, the boys were down there shooting at everything but the men, and they began to shoot back, and Aunt

Phoebe was afraid the boys would be hit, and so we all went down andoh, it was awful! If Grant hadn't

come home and stopped them, everybody would have been murdered. And you should have heard how they

swore at Grant afterward! They just called him everything they could think of for making them stop. I had to

sit around on the other side of the houseand even then I couldn't help hearing most of it.

"And today it is worse, because they just go around like a lot of dummies and won't do anything but look

mean. Aunt Phoebe was so crossCROSS, mind you!because I burnt the jam. And some of the jumpers

are missing, and nobody knows where they went and Marie has got the toothache worse than ever, and

won't go and have it pulled because it will HURT! I don't see how it can hurt much worse than it does

nowshe just goes around with tears running down into the flannel around her face till I could SHAKE

her!" Evadna laugheda selfpitying laugh, and rocked her small person violently. "I wish I could have an

office and live in it and telegraph things to people," she sighed, and laughed again most adorably at her own

childishness. "But really and truly, it's enough to drive a person CRAZY, down at the ranch!"

"For a girl with a brandnew sweetheart" Miss Georgie reproved quizzically, and reached for the

"A lot of good that does, when he's never there!" flashed Evadna, unintentionally revealing her real

grievance. "He just eats and goesand he isn't even there to eat, half the time. And when he's there, he's

grumpy, like all the rest." She was saying the things she had told herself, on the way up, that she would DIE

"I expect he's pretty worried, chicken, over that land business." Miss Georgie offered her candy, and Evadna

waved the box from her impatiently, as if her spirits were altogether too low for sweets.

"Well, I'm very sure I'M not to blame for those men being there," she retorted petulantly. "He" she

hesitated, and then plunged heedlessly on"he acts just as if I weren't anybody at all. I'm sure, if he expects

me to be a doll to be played with and then dumped into a corner where I'm to smile and smile until he comes

"Now, chicken, what's the use of being silly?" Miss Georgie turned her head slightly away, and stared out of

the window. "He's worried, I tell you, and instead of sulking because he doesn't stay and make love"

"You really ought to help him by being kind and showing a little sympathy, instead"

"Instead of making it harder for him by feeling neglected and letting him see that you do. My Heavens

above!" Miss Georgie faced her suddenly with pink cheeks. "When a man is up against a problemand

"You don't know a thing about it!" Evadna stopped rocking, and sat up very straight in the chair. "And even if

that were true, is that any reason why he should AVOID me? I'M not threatening his life!"

"He doesn't avoid you. And you're acting sillier than I ever supposed you could. He can't be in two places at

"Ohh!" There was a peculiar, sliding inflection upon that word, which made Miss Georgie's hand shut into

"Grant"Miss Georgie put a defiant emphasis upon it"is doing all he can to get to the bottom of that

jumping business. There's something crooked about it, and he knows it, and is trying to"

"Well, of course, if you DOthen I needn't tell you how silly it is for you to complain of being neglected,

when you know his time is all taken up with trying to ferret out a way to block their little game. He feels in a

"Yes, I know. He thinks he should have been watching somebody or something instead ofof being with

me. He took the trouble to make that clear to me, at least!" Evadna's eyes were very blue and very bright, but

Miss Georgie pressed her lips together tightly for a minute. When she spoke, she was cheerfully impersonal

"Chicken, you're a little goose. The man is simply crazy about you, and harassed to death with this ranch

"Thank you so much for holding out a little hope and encouragement, my dear!" Evadna, by the way, looked

anything but thankful; indeed, she seemed to resent the hope and the encouragement as a bit of unwarranted

impertinence. She glanced toward the door as if she meditated an immediate departure, but ended by settling

"It's a nasty, underhand business from start to finish," said Miss Georgie, ignoring the remark. "It has upset

everybodyme included, and I'm sure it isn't my affair. It's just one of those tricky cases that you know is

rotten to the core, and yet you can't seem to get hold of anything definite. My dad had one or two experiences

"Did you ever take after a mole, chicken? They used to get in our garden at home. They burrow underneath

the surface, you know, and one never sees them. You can tell by the ridge of loose earth that they're there,

and if you think you've located Mr. Mole, and jab a stick down, whyhe's somewhere else, nine times in

ten. I used to call them Baumbergers, even then. Dad," she finished reminiscently, "was always jabbing his

law stick down where the earth seemed to movebut he never located old Baumberger, to my knowledge."

She stopped, because Evadna, without a shadow of doubt, was looking bored. Miss Georgie regarded her

with the frown she used when she was applying her mental measuringstick. She began to suspect that

Evadna was, after all, an extremely selfcentered little person; she was sorry for the suspicion, and she was

also conscious of a certain disappointment which was not altogether for herself.

"Ah, well"she dismissed analysis and the whole subject with a laugh that was partly yawn"away with

dull care. Away with dull everything. It's too hot to think or feel. A real emotion is as superfluous and

oppressive as aa 'camel petticoat!" This time her laugh was real and infectiously carefree. "Take off your

hat, chicken. I'll go beg a hunk of ice from my dear friend Peter, and make some lemonade as is lemonade; or

claret punch, if you aren't a blue ribboner, or whiteribboner, or some other kind of a goodribboner." Miss

Georgie hated herself for sliding into sheer flippancy, but she preferred that extreme to the other, and she

Evadna, however, seemed to disapprove of the flippancy. She did not take off her hat, and she stated evenly

that she must go, and that she really did not care for lemonade, or claret punch, either.

"What, in Heaven's name, DO you care forbesides yourself?" flared Miss Georgie, quite humanly

exasperated. "There, chickenthe heat always turns me snappy," she repented instantly. "Please pinch me."

"I'm the snappy one," said Evadna, but she did not smile as she began drawing on her gauntlets slowly and

If she were waiting for Miss Georgie to come back to the subject of Grant, she was disappointed, for Miss

Georgie did not come to any subject whatever. A handcar breezed past the station, the four sectionmen

pumping like demons because of the slight down grade and their haste for their dinner.

Huckleberry gave one snort and one tug backward upon the tie rope and then a coltish kick into the air when

he discovered that he was free. After that, he took off through the sagebrush at a lope, too worldlywise to

follow the trail past the store, where someone might rush out and grab him before he could dodge away. He

"And now, I suppose I'll have the pleasure of walking home," grumbled Evadna, standing upon the platform

"It's noonstay and eat dinner with me, chicken. Some of the boys will bring him back after you the minute

he gets to the ranch. It's too hot to walk." Miss Georgie laid a hand coaxingly upon her arm.

But Evadna was in her mood of perversity. She wouldn't stay to dinner, because Aunt Phoebe would be

expecting her. She wouldn't wait for Huckleberry to be brought back to her, because she would never hear the

last of it. She didn't mind the heat the least bit, and she would walk. And no, she wouldn't borrow Miss

Georgie's parasol; she hated parasols, and she always had and always would. She gathered up her

Miss Georgie could be rather perverse herself upon occasion. She waited until Evadna was crunching cinders

under her feet before she spoke another word, and then she only called out a flippant, "Adios, senorita!"

Evadna knew no Spanish at all. She lifted her shoulders in what might be disdain, and made no reply

"Little idiot!" gritted Miss Georgieand this time she was not speaking of herself.

Saunders, limp and apathetic and colorless, shuffled over to the station with a wheelbarrow which had a

decrepit wheel, that left an undulating imprint of its drunken progress in the dust as it went. He loaded the

boxes of freight with the abused air of one who feels that Fate has used him hardly, and then sidled up to the

She took the shipping bill from him with her fingertips, reckoned the charges, and received the money

without a word, pushing a few pieces of silver toward him upon the table. As he bent to pick them up clawing

unpleasantly with vile fingernailsshe glanced at him contemptuously, looked again more attentively,

pursed her lips with one corner between her teeth, and when he had clawed the last dime off the smooth

surface of the table, she spoke to him as if he were not the reptile she considered him, but a live human.

"Horribly hot, isn't it? I wish _I_ could sleep till noon. It would make the days shorter, anyway."

"I opened up the store, and then I went back to bed," Saunders replied limply. "Just got up when the freight

pulled in. Made so blamed much noise it woke me. I seem to need a good deal of sleep." He coughed behind

his hand, and lingered inside the door. It was so unusual for Miss Georgie to make conversation with him that

"If it didn't sound cruel, this weather," said Miss Georgie lightly, still looking at himor, more particularly,

at the crumpled, soiled collar of his coarse blue shirt"I'd advise you to get out of Hartley once a day, if it

was no more than to take a walk. Though to be sure," she smiled, "the prospect is not inviting, to say the

least. Put it would be a change; I'd run up and down the track, if I didn't have to stick here in this office all

"I can't stand walking," Saunders whined. "It makes me cough." To illustrate, he gave another little hack

behind his hand. "I went up to the stable yesterday with a book, and laid down in the hay. And I went to

sleep, and Pete thought I was lost, I guess." He grinned, which was not pleasant, for he chewed tobacco and

"I like to lay in the hay," he added lifelessly. "I guess I'll take my bed up there; that leanto is awful hot."

"Well, you're lucky that you can do exactly as you please, and sleep whenever you please." Miss Georgie

turned to her telegraph instrument, and began talking in little staccato sparks of electricity to the agent at

Miss Georgie shook her head. He waited a minute longer, and then sidled out, and when he was heard

crunching over the cinders with his barrowload of boxes, she switched off the current abruptly, and went

"Item," she began aloud, when he was quite gone, her eyes staring vacantly down the scintillating rails to

where they seemed to meet in one glittering point far away in the desert." Item" But whatever the item

was, she jotted it down silently in that mental memorandum book which was one of her whims. "Once I put a

thing in that little blue book of mine," she used to tell her father, "it's there for keeps. And there's the

advantage that I never leave it lying around to be lost, or for other people to pick up and read to my

The four thirty five train came in its own time, and brought the two missing placer miners. But it did not

bring Baumberger, nor Peaceful Hart, nor any word of either. Miss Georgie spent a good deal of time staring

out of the window toward the store that day, and when she was not doing that she was moving restlessly

about the little office, picking things up without knowing why she did so, and laying them down again when

she discovered them in her hands and had no use for them. The ice cream came, and the cake, and the

magazines; and she left the whole pile just inside the door without undoing a wrapping.

At five o'clock she rose abruptly from the rocker, in which she had just deposited herself with irritated

"It's important, Mr. Gray. Business which can't wait," she clicked urgently. "I'll be back before Eight is due.

Please." Miss Georgie did not often send that last word of her own volition. All up and down the line she was

said to be "Independent as a hog on ice"a simile not pretty, perhaps, nor even exact, but frequently applied,

Be that as it may, she received gracious permission to lock the office door from the outside, and she was not

long in doing so, and heaved a great sigh of relief when it was done. She went straight to the store, and

straight back to where Pete Hamilton was leaning over a barrel redolent of pickled pork. He came up with

dripping hands and a treasuretrove of flabby meat, and while he was dangling it over the barrel until the

"I dunno where Saunders is again," he said, letting his consent be taken for granted. "But I'll go myself and

saddle up, if you'll mind the store. Soon as I finish waitin' on this customer," he added, casting a glance

toward a man who sat upon the counter and dangled his legs while he apathetically munched stale pretzels

"Oh, I can saddle, all right, Pete. I've got two hours off, and I want to ride down to see how the Harts are

"Maybe I can round up Saunders. He must be somewheres around," Pete suggested languidly, wrapping the

pork in a piece of brown paper and reaching for the string which dangled from the ball hung over his head.

"Saunders is asleep, very likely. If he isn't in his room, never mind hunting him. The horse is in the stable, I

Pete tied the package, wiped his hands, and went heavily out. He returned immediately, said that Saunders

must be up at the stable, and turned his attention to weighing out five pounds of white beans.

Miss Georgie helped herself to a large bag of mixed candy, and put the money in the drawer, laid her key

upon the desk for safekeeping, repinned her white sailor hat so that the hot wind which blew should not take

She did not saddle the horse at once. She first searched the pile of sweetsmelling clover in the far end, made

sure that no man was there, assured herself in the same manner of the fact that she was absolutely alone in the

stable so far as humans were concerned, and continued her search; not for Saunders now, but for sagebrush.

"There's hardly a root of it anywhere around close," she said to herself. "Nor around the store, eithernor

She stood there meditatively for a few minutes, remembered that two hours do not last long, and saddled

hurriedly. Then, mounting awkwardly because of the large, lumpy bag of candy which she must carry in her

hands for want of a pocket large enough to hold it, she rode away to the Indian camp.

The camp was merely a litter of refuse and the ashes of various campfires, with one wikiup standing forlorn

in the midst. Miss Georgie never wasted precious time on empty ceremony, and she would have gone into

that tent unannounced and stated her errand without any compunction whatever. Put Peppajee was lying

outside, smoking in the shade, with his foot bandaged and disposed comfortably upon a folded blanket. She

"Mebbyso bueno. Sun come two time, mebbyso walk all same no snake biteum." Peppajee's eyes gloated

"That's good. Say, Peppajee," Miss Georgie reached up to feel her hatpins and to pat her hair, "I wish you'd

watch Saunders. Him no good. I think him bad. I can't keep an eye on him. Can you?"

"Well, but you could tell somebody else to watch him. I think he do bad thing to the Harts. You like Harts.

Miss Georgie drew in her breath for further argument, decided that it was not worth while, and touched up

her horse with the whip. "Goodby," she called back, and saw that Peppajee was looking after her with his

"You're just about as satisfying to talk to as a stump," she paid tribute to his unassailable calm. "There's four

bits wasted," she sighed, "to say nothing of the trouble I had packing that candy to youyou ungrateful old

devil." With which unladylike remark she dismissed him from her mind as a possible ally.

At the ranch, the boys were enthusiastically blistering palms and stiffening the muscles of their backs, turning

the water away from the ditches that crossed the disputed tracts so that the trespassers there should have none

in which to pan goldor to pretend that they were panning gold. Since the whole ranch was irrigated by

springs running out here and there from under the bluff, and all the ditches ran to meadow and orchard and

patches of small fruit, and since the springs could not well be stopped from flowing, the thing was not to be

And since there were four boys with decided ideas upon the subjectideas which harmonized only in the

fundamental desire to harry the interlopers, the thing was not to be done without much time being wasted in

Wally insisted upon running the water all into a sandy hollow where much of it would seep away and a lake

would do no harm, the main objection to that being that it required digging at least a hundred yards of new

Jack wanted to close all the headgates and just let the water go where it wanted towhich was easy enough,

but ineffective, because most of it found its way into the ditches farther down the slope.

Gene and Clark did not much care how the thing was doneso long as it was done their way. At least, that is

It was Good Indian who at length settled the matter. There were five springs altogether; he proposed that each

one make himself responsible for a certain spring, and see to it that no water reached the jumpers.

"And I don't care a tinker's dam how you do it," he said. "Drink it all, if you want to. I'll take the

biggestthat one under the milkhouse." Whereat they jeered at him for wanting to be close to Evadna.

"Well, who has a better right?" he challenged, and then inconsiderately left them before they could think of a

So they went to work, each in his own way, agreeing mostly in untiring industry. That is how Miss Georgie

found them occupiedexcept that Good Indian had stopped long enough to soothe Evadna and her aunt, and

to explain that the water would really not rise much higher in the milkhouse, and that he didn't believe

Evadna's pet bench at the head of the pond would be inaccessible because of his efforts.

Phoebe was sloshing around upon the flooded floor of her milkhouse, with her skirts tucked up and her

indignation growing greater as she gave it utterance, rescuing her pans of milk and her jars of cream. Evadna,

upon the top step, sat with her feet tucked up under her as if she feared an instant inundation. She, also, was

giving utterance to her feminine irritation at the discomfortof her aunt presumably, since she herself was

"And it won't do a BIT of good. They'll just knock that dam business all to pieces tonight" She was

Grant grinned at Miss Georgie, forgetting for the moment his rebuff that morning. "She did swear, didn't

she?" he confirmed wickedly. "And she's been working overtime, trying to reform me. Wanted to pin me

down to 'my goodness!' and 'oh, dear!'with all this excitement taking place on the ranch!"

"I wasn't swearing at all. Grant has been shoveling sand all afternoon, building a dam over by the fence, and

the water has been rising and rising till" She waved her hand gloomily at her bedraggled Aunt Phoebe

working like a motherly sort of gnome in its shadowy grotto. "Oh, if I were Aunt Phoebe, I should just shake

"Try it," he invited, his eyes worshiping her in her pretty petulance. "I wish you would."

As Miss Georgie went past them down the steps, her face had the set look of one who is consciously and

"Don't quarrel, children," she advised lightly. "Howdy, Mrs. Hart? What are they trying to dodrown you?"

"Oh, these boys of mine! They'll be the death of me, what with the things they won't do, and the things they

WILL do. They're trying now to create a water famine for the jumpers, and they're making their own mother

swim for the good of the cause." Phoebe held out a plump hand, moist and cold from lifting cool crocks of

"The water won't rise any more, Mother Hart," Grant called down to her from the top step, where he was

sitting unblushingly beside Evadna. "I told you six inches would be the limit, and then it would run off in the

"Oh, yes, I know you explained just WHY," Phoebe cut in disconsolately and yet humorously, "but

explanations don't seem to help my poor milkhouse any. And what about the garden, and the fruit, if you

turn tho water all down into the pasture? And what about the poor horses getting their feet wet and catching

their death of cold? And what's to hinder that man Stanley and his gang from packing water in buckets from

She looked at Miss Georgie whimsically. "I'm an ungrateful, badtempered old woman, I guess, for they're

doing it because it's the only thing they can do, since I put my foot down on all this bombarding and burning

good powder just to ease their minds. They've got to do something, I suppose, or they'd all burst. And I don't

know but what it's a good thing for 'em to work off their energy digging ditches, even if it don't do a mite of

Good Indian was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, murmuring lover's confidences behind the

shield of his tilted hat, which hid from all but Evadna his smiling lips and his telltale, glowing eyes. He

looked up at that last sentence, though it is doubtful if he had heard much of what she had been saying.

"It's bound to do good if it does anything," he said. with an optimism which was largely the outgrowth of his

beatific mood, which in its turn was born of his nearness to Evadna and her gracious manner toward him.

"We promised not to molest them on their claims. But if they get over the line to meddle with our water

system, or carry any in bucketswhich they can't, because they all leak like the deuce"he grinned as he

thought of the bullet holes in them"why, I don't know but what someone might object to that, and send

He picked up a floating ribbonend which was a part of Evadna's belt, and ran it caressingly through his

fingers in a way which set Miss Georgie's teeth together. "I'm afraid," he added dryly, his eyes once more

seeking Evadna's face with pure love hunger, "they aren't going to make much of a stagger at placer mining,

if they haven't any water." He rolled the ribbon up tightly, and then tossed it lightly toward her face. "ARE

"Are they what? I've told you a dozen times to stop calling me that. I had a doll once that I named Goldilocks,

and I melted her nose offshe was waxand you always remind me of the horrible expression it gave to

her face. I'd go every day and take her out of the bureaudrawer and look at her, and then cry my eyes out.

Won't you come and sit down, Georgie? There's room. Now, what was the discussion, and how far had we

got? Aunt Phoebe, I don't believe it has raised a bit lately. I've been watching that black rock with the crack in

it." Evadna moved nearer to Good Indian, and pulled her skirts close upon the other side, thereby making a

"I can't sit anywhere," said Miss Georgie, looking at her watch. "By the way, chicken, did you have to walk

Evadna looked sidelong at Good Indian, as if a secret had been betrayed." No," she said, "I didn't. I just got to

the top of the grade when a squaw came along, and she was leading Huckleberry. A gaudy young squaw, all

red and purple and yellow. She was awfully curious about you, Grant. She wanted to know where you were

and what you were doing. I hope you aren't a flirtatious young man. She seemed to know you pretty well, I

She had to explain to her Aunt Phoebe and Grant just how she came to be walking, and she laughed at the

squaw's vivid costume, and declared she would have one like it, because Grant must certainly admire colors.

She managed, innocently enough, to waste upon such trivialities many of Miss Georgie's precious minutes.

At last that young woman, after glancing many times at her watch, and declining an urgent invitation to stay

to supper, declared that she must go, and tried to give Good Indian a significant look without being detected

in the act by Evadna. But Good Indian, for the time being wholly absorbed by the smiles of his lady, had no

eyes for her, and seemed to attach no especial meaning to her visit. So that Miss Georgie, feminine to her

fingertips and oversensitive perhaps where those two were concerned, suddenly abandoned her real object

in going to the ranch, and rode away without saying a word of what she had come to say.

She was a direct young woman who was not in the habit of mincing matters with herself, or of dodging an

issue, and she bluntly called herself a fool many times that evening, because she had not said plainly that she

would like to talk with Grant "and taken him off to one sideby the ear, if necessaryand talked to him,

and told him what I went down there to tell him," she said to herself angrily. "And if Evadna didn't like it, she

could do the other thing. It does seem as if girls like that are always having the trail smoothed down for them

to dance their way through life, while other people climb over rocksmostly with packs on their shoulders

that don't rightly belong to them." She sighed impatiently. "It must be lovely to be absolutely selfishwhen

you're pretty enough and young enough to make it stick!" Miss Georgie was, without doubt, in a nasty temper

The hot days dropped, one by one, into the past like fiery beads upon a velvety black cord. Miss Georgie told

them silently in the meager little office, and sighed as they slipped from under her white, nervous fingers.

Onenothing happened that could be said to bear upon the one big subject in her mind, the routine work of

passing trains and dribbling business in the express and freight departments, and a long afternoon of heat and

silence save for the asthmatic pump, fifty yards down the main track. Twothis exactly like the first, except

that those inseparables, Hagar, Viney, and Lucy, whom Miss Georgie had inelegantly dubbed "the Three

Greases," appeared, silent, blanketenshrouded, and perspiring, at the office door in midafternoon. Half a

box of soggy chocolates which the heat had rendered a dismally sticky mass won from them smiles and

halfintelligible speech. Fishing was poorno ketchum. Threenot even the diversion of the squaws to

make her forget the dragging hours. Nothingnothingnothing, she told herself apathetically when that

third day had slipped upon the black cord of a soft, warm night, starsprinkled and unutterably lonely as it

On the morning of the fourth day, Miss Georgie woke with the vague sense that something had gone wrong.

True railroader as she had come to be, she thought first that there had been a wreck, and that she was wanted

at the telegraph instrument. She was up and partly dressed before the steps and the voices which had broken

"What is it? What has happened?" she cried from within, beset by a hundred wild conjectures.

"Saunderssomebody shot Saunders. Wire for a doctor, quick as yuh can. He ain't dead yetbut he's goin'

t' die, sure. Hurry up and wire" Somebody at the store called to him, and he broke off to run lumberingly in

Saunders was lying upon a blanket on the store platform, and Miss Georgie shuddered as she looked at him.

He was pasty white, and his eyes looked glassy under his halfclosed lids. He had been shot in the side at

the stable, he had gasped out when Pete found him lying in the trail just back of the store. Now he seemed

beyond speech, and the little group of sectionhands, the Chinese cook at the sectionhouse, and the Swede

"Take him in and put him to bed," Miss Georgie commanded, turning away. "See if he's bleeding yet,

andwell, I should put a cold compress on the wound, I think. I'll send for a doctorbut he can't get here

till nine o'clock unless you want to stand the expense of a special. And by that time"

Saunders moved his head a trifle, and lifted his heavy lids to look at her, which so unnerved Miss Georgie

that she turned and ran to the office. When she had sent the message she sat drumming upon the table while

"Gran" her fingers had spelled when she became conscious of the fact, flushed hotly, and folded her

"The doctor will comeHawkinson, I sent for," she announced later to Pete, holding out the telegram. She

glanced reluctantly at the wrinkled blanket where Saunders had lain, caught a corner of her under lip between

her teeth, and, bareheaded though she was, went down the steps and along the trail to the stable.

"I've nearly an hour before I need open the office," she said to herself, looking at her watch. She did not say

what she meant to do with that hour, but she spent a quarter of it examining the stable and everything in it.

Finally she lifted her skirts as a woman instinctively does at a street crossing, and struck off through the

sagebrush, her eyes upon a line of uncertain footsteps as of a drunken man reeling that way. They were not

easy to followor they would not have been if she had not felt certain of the general direction which they

must take. More than once she lost sight of them for several rods, but she always picked them up farther

along. At one place she stopped, and stood perfectly still, her skirts held back tightly with both hands, while

she stared fascinatedly at a red smear upon a broken branch of sage and the smoothpacked hollow in the

The footprints were plain where he crossed the grade road near the edge of the bluff, but from there on it was

harder to follow them because of the great patches of black lava rock lying even with the surface of the

ground, where a dozen men might walk abreast and leave no sign that the untrained eye, at least, could detect.

"This is a case for Indians," she mused, frowning over an open space where all was rock. "Injun Charlie

would hunt tracks all day for a dollar or two; only he'd make tracks just to prove himself the real goods." She

sighed, stood upon her tiptoes, and peered out over the sage to get her bearings, then started on at a hazard.

She went a few rods, found herself in a thick tangle of brush through which she could not force her way,

started to back out, and caught her hair on a scraggly scrub which seemed to have as many prongs as there are

briers on a rosebush. She was struggling there with her hands fumbling unavailingly at the back of her bowed

head, when she was pounced upon by someone or something through the sage. She screamed.

"Thedeuce!" Good Indian brought out the milder expletive with the flat intonation which the unexpected

presence of a lady frequently gives to a man's speech. "Lucky I didn't take a shot at you through the bushes. I

did, almost, when I saw somebody moving here. Is this your favorite place for a morning ramble?" He had

one hand still upon her arm, and he was laughing openly at her plight. But he sobered when he stooped a little

so that he could see her face, for there were tears in her eyes, and Miss Georgie was not the sort of young

"If you did itand you must haveI don't see how you can laugh about it, even if he is a crawling reptile of

a man that ought to be hung!" The tears were in her voice as well as her eyes, and there were reproach and

"Did whatto whomto where, to why?" Good Indian let go her arm, and began helpfully striving with the

scraggly scrub and its prongs. "Say, I'll just about have to scalp you to get you loose. Would you mind very

much, Squawtalkfaroff?" He ducked and peered into her face again, and again his face sobered. "What's

the matter?" he asked, in an entirely different tonewhich Miss Georgie, in spite of her mood, found less

"SaundersOUCH; I'd as soon be scalped and done with, as to have you pull out a hair at a timeSaunders

Miss Georgie reached up, caught him by the wrists, and held him so while she tilted her head that she might

"Grant!" she cried softly. "He deserved it. You couldn't help ithe would have shot you down like a dog,

just because he was hired to do it, or because of some hold over him. Don't think I blame youor that

anyone would if they knew the truth. I came out to seeI just HAD to make surebut you must get away

from here. You shouldn't have stayed so long" Miss Georgie gave a most unexpected sob, and stopped that

"You think I shot him." As Good Indian said it, the sentence was merely a statement, rather than an

"I don't blame you. I suspected he was the man up here with the rifle. That daythat first day, when you told

me about someone shooting at youhe came over to the station. And I saw two or three scraps of sage

sticking under his shirtcollar, as if he had been out in the brush; you know how it breaks off and sticks,

when you go through it. And he said he had been asleep. And there isn't any sage where a man would have to

go through it unless he got right out in it, away from the trails. I thought then that he was the man"

"It was after you had left that I saw it. And I did go down to the ranch to tell you. But Iyou were

sooccupiedin other directions" She let go his wrists, and began fumbling at her hair, and she bowed

"You didn't want her to know. I couldn't, before her. And I didn't want tohurt her by" Miss Georgie

"Well, there's no use arguing about that." Good Indian also found that subject a difficult one. "You say he

"He wasn't able to talk when I saw him. Pete said Saunders claimed he was shot at the stable, but I know that

to be a lie." Miss Georgie spoke with unfeeling exactness. "That was to save himself in case he got well, I

suppose. I believe the man is going to die, if he hasn't already; he had the lookI've seen them in wrecks,

and I know. He won't talk; he can't. But there'll be an investigationand Baumberger, I suspect, will be just

as willing to get you in this way as in any other. More so, maybe. Because a murder is always awkward to

"I can't see why he should want to murder me." Good Indian took her hands away from her hair, and set

himself again to the work of freeing her. "You've been fudging around till you've got about ten million more

"Wow! ARE you deliberately torturing me?" she complained, winking with the pain of his good intentions. "I

don't believe he does want to murder you. I think that was just Saunders trying to make a dandy good job of

it. He doesn't like you, anywaywitness the way you bawled him out that day you ropedoww!roped

the dog. Baumberger may have wanted him to keep an eye on youMy Heavens, man! Do you think you're

"I wouldn't be surprised," he retorted, grinning a little. "Honest! I'm trying to go easy, but this infernal bush

has sure got a strangle hold on youand your hair is so fluffy it's a deuce of a job. You keep wriggling and

getting it caught in new places. If you could only manage to stand stillbut I suppose you can't.

"By the way," he remarked casually, after a short silence, save for an occasional squeal from Miss Georgie,

Miss Georgie looked up at him, to the further entanglement of her hair. "You DIDN'T? Then who did?"

"Well, I will." Miss Georgie spoke with a certain decisiveness, and reaching out a sagesoiled hand, took his

gun from the holster at his hip. He shrank away with a man's instinctive dislike of having anyone make free

"Stand still, can't you?" he admonished, and kept at work while she examined the gun with a dexterity and

ease of every motion which betrayed her perfect familiarity with firearms. She snapped the cylinder into

place, sniffed daintily at the end of the barrel, and slipped the gun back into its scabbard.

"Don't think I doubted your word," she said, casting a slanting glance up at him without moving her head.

"But I wanted to be able to swear positively, if I should happen to be dragged into the witnessboxI hope it

won't be by the hair of the head!that your gun has not been fired this morning. Unless you carry a cleaning

"You may search me if you like," Good Indian suggested, and for an engaged young man, and one deeply in

love withal, he displayed a contentment with the situation which was almost reprehensible.

"No use. If you did pack one with you, you'd be a fool not to throw it away after you had used it. No, I'll

swear to the gun as it is now. Are you ever going to get my hair loose? I'm due at the office right this minute,

I'll bet a molasses cooky." She looked at her watch, and groaned. "I'd have to telegraph myself back to get

there on time now," she said. "Twentyfourthat fast freightis due in eighteen minutes exactly. I've got to

be there. Take your jackknife and cut what won't come loose. Really, I mean it, Mr. Imsen."

"My name is 'Dennis,' if I don't beat that freight," she retorted curtly. "Take your knife and give me a hair

"Oh, all rightbut it's a shame to leave a nice bunch of hair like this hanging on a bush."

"Tell me, what were you doing up here, Grant? And what are you going to do now? We haven't much time,

"Well, I got up early, and someone took a shot at me again. This time he clipped my hatbrim." He took off

his hat, and showed her where the brim had a jagged tear half an inch deep. "I ducked, and made up my mind

I'd get him this time, or know the reason why. So I rode up the other way and back behind the orchard, and

struck the grade below the Point o' Rocks, and so came up here hunting him. I kept pretty well out of

sightwe've done that before; Jack and I took sneak yesterday, and came up here at sunrise, but we couldn't

find anything. I was beginning to think he had given it up. So I was just scouting around here when I heard

you rustling the bushes over here. I was going to shoot, but I changed my mind, and thought I'd land on you

and trust to the lessons I got in football and the gun. And the rest," he declaimed whimsically, "you know.

"Now, duck away downoh, wait a minute." He gave a jerk at the knot of his neckerchief, flipped out the

folds, spread it carefully over her head, and tied it under her chin, patting it into place and tucking stray locks

under as if he rather enjoyed doing it." Better wear it till you're out of the brush," he advised, "if you don't

"Now, pikeway," he smiled. "And don't run bareheaded through the bushes again. You've still got time to

beat that train. Andabout Saunders don't worry. I can get to the ranch without being seen, and no one

"Oh, I shall of course!" Miss Georgie chose to be very sarcastic. "I think I shall wire the information to the

sheriff. Don't come with meand leave tracks all over the country. Keep on the lava rock. Haven't you got

"You made tracks yourself, madam, and you've left a fine lot of incriminating evidence on that bush. I'll have

to waste an hour picking off the hair, so they won't accuse you of shooting Saunders." Good Indian spoke

lightly, but they both stopped, nevertheless, and eyed the offending bush anxiously.

"You haven't time," Miss Georgie decided. "I can easily get around that, if it's put up to me. You go on back.

"Oh, veyree well. We haven't met this morning. Goodby, Squawtalkfaroff. I'll see you later, perhaps."

Miss Georgie still had that freight heavy on her conscience, but she stood and watched him stoop under an

overhanging branch and turn his head to smile reassuringly back at her; then, with a pungent stirring of sage

odors, the bushes closed in behind him, and it was as if he had never been there at all. Whereupon Miss

Georgie once more gathered her skirts together and ran to the trail, and down that to the station.

She met a group of squaws, who eyed her curiously, but she was looking once more at her watch, and paid no

attention, although they stood huddled in the trail staring after her. She remembered that she had left the

office unlocked and she rushed in, and sank panting into the chair before her telegraph table just as the smoke

of the fast freight swirled around the nose of the low, sagecovered hill to the west.

Good Indian came out upon the rimrock, looked down upon the ranch beneath him, and knew, by various

little movements about the place, that breakfast was not yet ready. Gene was carrying two pails of milk to the

house, and Wally and Jack were watering the horses that had been stabled overnight. He was on the point of

shouting down to them when his arm was caught tightly from behind. He wheeled about and confronted

Rachel. Clothed all in dull gray she was, like a savage young Quakeress. Even the red ribbons were gone

from her hair, which was covered by the gray blanket wrapped tightly around her slim body. She drew him

"You no shout," she murmured gravely. "No lettum see you here. You go quick. Ketchum you cayuse, go to

Good Indian stood still, and looked at her. She stood with her arms folded in her blanket, regarding him with

"You all time think why," she said, shrewdly reading his thoughts, "I no take shame. I glad." She flushed, and

looked away to the far side of the Snake. "Bad mans no more try for shoot you, mebbyso. I heap"

"Rachelif you did that, don't tell me about it. Don't tell me anything. I don't ask youI don't want to

know." He spoke rapidly, in the grip of his first impulse to shield her from what she had done. But he felt her

"You no glad? You think shame for me? You think Iall timeverybad!" Tragedy was in her voice, and

"No, Rachel. I don't think that. I want to help you out of this, if I can, and I meant that if you didn't tell me

"I sabe." Her lips curved into a pathetic little smile. "I sabe you know all what I do. You know for why, me

thinkum. You think shame. I no take shame. I do for you no get killdead. All time Manthatcoughs try for

shootum you. All time I try for" She broke off to stare questioningly up into his face. "I no tell, you no like

for tell," she said quietly. "All same, you go. You ketchum you hoss, you go ranch. I think sheriff mans

mebbyso come pretty quick. No find out you be here. I no like you be here this time."

Good Indian turned, yielding to the pleading of her eyes. The heart of him ached dully with the weight of

what she had done, and with an uneasy comprehension of her reason for doing it. He walked as quickly as the

rough ground would permit, along the bluff toward the grade; and she, with the instinctive deference to the

male which is the heritage of primitive woman, followed softfootedly two paces behind him. Once where

the way was clear he stopped, and waited for her to come alongside, but Rachel stopped and waited also, her

eyes hungrily searching his face with the look a dog has for his master. Good Indian read the meaning of that

"You'd better go on to camp, and stay there, Rachel," he said, as casually as he could. "No trouble will come

to you." He hesitated, biting his lip and plucking absently the tangles from the forelock of his horse. "You

sabe grateful?" he asked finally. And when she gave a quick little nod, he went on: "Well, I'm grateful to you.

You did what a man would do for his friend. I sabe. I'm heap grateful, and I'll not forget it. All time I'll be

your friend. Goodby." He mounted, and rode away. He felt, just then, that it was the kindest thing he could

He looked back once, just as he was turning into the grade road. She was standing, her arms folded in her

gray blanket, where he had left her. His fingers tightened involuntarily the reins, so that Keno stopped and

eyed his master inquiringly. But there was nothing that he might say to her. It was not words that she wanted.

Evadna rallied him upon his moodiness at breakfast, pouted a little because he remained preoccupied under

her teasing, and later was deeply offended because he would not tell her where he had been, or what was

"I guess you better send word to the doctor he needn't come," the pump man put his head in at the office door

to say, just as the freight was pulling away from the watertank. "Saunders died a few minutes ago. Pete says

you better notify the coronerand I reckon the sheriff, too. Pretty tough to be shot down like that in broad

"I think I'd rather be shot in daylight than in the dark," Miss Georgie snapped unreasonably because her

Saunders was neither a popular nor a prominent citizen, and there was none to mourn beside him. Peter

Hamilton, as his employer and a man whose emotions were easily stirred, was shocked a shade lighter as to

his complexion and a tone lower as to his voice perhaps, and was heard to remark frequently that it was "a

turrible thing," but the chief emotion which the tragedy roused was curiosity, and that fluttering excitement

A dozen Indians hung about the store, the squaws peering inquisitively in at the uncurtained window of the

leantowhere the bed held a long immovable burden with a rumpled sheet over itand the bucks listening

Pete Hamilton, anxious that the passing of his unprofitable servant should be marked by decorum if not by

grief, mentally classed the event with election day, in that he refused to sell any liquor until the sheriff and

coroner arrived. He also, after his first bewilderment had passed, conceived the idea that Saunders had

committed suicide, and explained to everyone who would listen just why he believed it. Saunders was sickly,

for one thing. For another, Saunders never seemed to get any good out of living. He had read everything he

could get his hands onand though Pete did not say that Saunders chose to die when the stock of paper

The sheriff and the coroner came at nine. All the Hart boys, including Donny, were there before noon, and the

group of Indians remained all day wherever the store cast its shadow. Squaws and bucks passed and repassed

upon the footpath between Hartley and their camp, chattering together of the big event until they came under

the eye of strange white men, whereupon they. were stricken deaf and dumb, as is the way of our nation's

When the sheriff inspected the stable and its vicinity, looking for clews, not a blanket was in sight, though a

dozen eyes watched every movement suspiciously. When at the inquest that afternoon, he laid upon the table

a battered old revolver of cheap workmanship and long past its prime, and testified that he had found it ten

feet from the stabledoor, in a due line southeast from the haycorral, and that one shot had been fired from

it, there were Indians in plenty to glance furtively at the weapon and give no sign.

The coroner showed the bullet which he had extracted from the body of Saunders, and fitted it into the empty

cartridge which had been under the hammer in the revolver, and thereby proved to the satisfaction of

everyone that the gun was intimately connected with the death of the man. So the jury arrived speedily, and

Good Indian drew a long breath, put on his hat, and went over to tell Miss Georgie. The Hart boys lingered

for a few minutes at the store, and then rode on to the ranch without him, and the Indians stole away over the

hill to their camp. The coroner and the sheriff accepted Pete's invitation into the back part of the store,

refreshed themselves after the ordeal, and caught the next train for Shoshone. So closed the incident of

"Well," Miss Georgie summed up the situation, "Baumberger hasn't made any sign of taking up the matter. I

don't believe, now, that he will. I wired the news to the papers in Shoshone, so he must know. I think perhaps

he's glad to get Saunders out of the wayfor he certainly must have known enough to put Baumberger

"But I don't see," she said, in a puzzled way, "how that gun came onto the scene. I looked all around the

"Well, he did pick it upfortunately," Good Indian returned grimly. "I'm glad the thing was settled so

She looked up at him sharply for a moment, opened her lips to ask a question, and then thought better of it.

"Oh, here's your handkerchief," she said quietly, taking it from the bottom of her wastebasket. "As you say,

the thing is settled. I'm going to turn you out now. The fourthirtyfive is due pretty soonand I have

He looked at her strangely, and went away, wondering why Miss Georgie hated so to have him in the office

On the next day, at ten o'clock, they buried Saunders on a certain little knoll among the sagebrush; buried him

without much ceremony, it is true, but with more respect than he had received when he was alive and

shambling sneakily among them. Good Indian was there, saying little and listening attentively to the

comments made upon the subject, and when the last bit of yellow gravel had been spatted into place he rode

down through the Indian camp on his way home, thankful that everyone seemed to accept the verdict of

suicide as being final, and anxious that Rachel should know it. He felt rather queer about Rachel; sorry for

her, in an impersonal way; curious over her attitude toward life in general and toward himself in particular,

But Rachel, when he reached the camp, was not visible. Peppajee Jim was sitting peacefully in the shade of

his wikiup when Grant rode up, and he merely grunted in reply to a question or two. Good Indian resolved to

be patient. He dismounted, and squatted upon his heels beside Peppajee, offered him tobacco, and dipped a

shiny, new nickel toward a brighteyed papoose in scanty raiment, who stopped to regard him inquisitively.

"I just saw them bury Saunders," Good Indian remarked, by way of opening a conversation. "You believe he

Peppajee took his little stone pipe from his lips, blew a thin wreath of smoke, and replaced the stem between

"All the white men say that," Good Indian persisted, after he had waited a minute. Peppajee did not seem to

Good Indian studied him silently. Reticence was not a general characteristic of Peppajee; it seemed to

indicate a thorough understanding of the whole affair. He wondered if Rachel had told her uncle the truth.

"Where's Rachel?" he asked suddenly, the words following involuntarily his thought.

Peppajee sucked hard upon his pipe, took it away from his mouth, and knocked out the ashes upon a pole of

"Yo' no speakum Rachel no more," he said gravely. "Yo' ketchum 'Vadnah; no ketchum otha squaw. Bad

"I'm Rachel's friend, Peppajee." Good Indian spoke softly so that others might not hear. "I sabe what Rachel

"Yo' make heap bad heart for Rachel," he said sourly. "Yo' like for be friend, yo' no come no more, mebbyso.

No speakum. Bimeby mebbyso no have bad heart no more. Kay bueno. Yo' white mans. Rachel mebbyso

thinkum all time yo' Indian. Mebbyso thinkum be yo' squaw. Kay bueno. Yo' all time white mans. No

Yo' speakum, me like to kill yo', mebbyso." He spoke calmly, but none the less his words carried conviction

Within the wikiup Good Indian heard a smothered sob. He listened, heard it again, and looked challengingly

at Peppajee. But Peppajee gave no sign that he either heard the sound or saw the challenge in Good Indian's

"I Rachel's friend," he said, speaking distinctly with his face half turned toward the wall of deerskin. "I want

to tell Rachel what the sheriff said. I want to thank Rachel, and tell her I'm her friend. I don't want to bring

Peppajee eyed him comprehendingly, but there was no yielding in his brown, wrinkled face.

From under the wall of the wikiup close to Good Indian on the side farthest from Peppajee, a small, leafless

branch of sage was thrust out, and waggled cautiously, scraping gently his hand. Good Indian's fingers closed

upon it instinctively, and felt it slowly withdrawn until his hand was pressed against the hide wall. Then soft

fingers touched his own, fluttered there timidly, and left in his palm a bit of paper, tightly folded. Good

"One thing I would like to know." Good Indian spoke again. "You don't care any more about the men taking

Peaceful's ranch. Before they came, you watch all the time, you heap care. Why you no care any more? Why

"All time Baumberga try for ketchum ranch, me try for stoppum," he retorted. "Yo' no b'lievum, Peacefu' no

b'lievum. Me tellum yo' cloud sign, tellum yo' smoke sign, tellum yo' hear much bad talk for ketchum ranch.

Yo' all time think for ketchum 'Vadnah squaw. No think for stoppum mens. Yo' all time let mens come,

ketchum ranch. Yo' say fightum in co't. Cloud sign say me do notting. Yo' lettum come. Yo' mebbyso makum

"I see. Well, maybe you're right." He tightened the reins, and rode away, the tight little wad of paper still

hidden in his palm. When he was quite out of sight from the camp and jogging leisurely down the hot trail, he

His face was grave and thoughtful when at last he tore it into tiny bits and gave it to the hot, desert wind. It

was a pitiful little message, printed laboriously upon a scrap of brown wrappingpaper. It said simply:

Good Indian looked in the hammock, but Evadna was not there. He went to the little stone bench at the head

of the pond, and when he still did not see her he followed the bank around to the milk house, where was a

mumble of voices. And, standing in the doorway with her arm thrown around her Aunt Phoebe's shoulders in

a pretty protective manner, he saw her, and his eyes gladdened. She did not see him at once. She was facing

courageously the three inseparables, Hagar, Viney, and Lucy, squatted at the top of the steps, and she was

speaking her mind rapidly and angrily. Good Indian knew that tone of old, and he grinned. Also he stopped

"That is not true," she was saying very clearly. "You're a bad old squaw and you tell lies. You ought to be put

in jail for talking that way." She pressed her aunt's shoulder affectionately. "Don't you mind a word she says,

Aunt Phoebe. She's just a mischiefmaking old hag, and sheoh, I'd like to beat her!"

Hagar shook her head violently, and her voice rose shrill and malicious, cutting short Evadna's futile

"Kaaay bueno, yo'!" Her teeth gnashed together upon the words. "I no tellum lie. Good Injun him kill

Manthatcoughs. All time I seeum creep, creep, through sagebrush. All time I seeum hoss wait where much

rock grow. I seeum. I no speakum heap lie. Speakum true. I go tell sheriff mans Good Indian killum

"Why didn't you, then, when the sheriff was in Hartley?" Evadna flung at her angrily. "Because you know it's

"Yo' thinkum Good Injun love yo', mebbyso." Hagar's witchgrin was at its malevolent widest. Her black

eyes sparkled with venom. "Yo' heap fool. Good Injun go all time Squawtalkfaroff. Speakum glad word.

Good Injun kaaay bueno. Love Squawtalkfaroff. No love yo'. Speakum lies, yo'. Makum yo' heap cry

all time. Makeum yo' heart bad." She cackled, and leered with vile significance toward the girl in the

Good Indian took a step forward, his face white with rage. Viney saw him first, muttered an Indian word of

"So you've got to call me a murderer!" he cried, advancing threateningly upon Hagar. "And even that doesn't

Evadna rushed up the steps like a crisp little whirlwind, and caught his arm tightly in her two hands.

"Grant! We don't believe a word of it. You couldn't do a thing like that. Don't we KNOW? Don't pay any

attention to her. We aren't going to. It'll hurt her worse than any kind of punishment we could give her. Oh,

she's a VILE old thing! Too vile for words! Aunt Phoebe and I shouldn't belittle ourselves by even listening

to her. SHE can't do any harm unless we let it bother uswhat she says. _I_ know you never could take a

human life, Grant. It's foolish even to speak of such a thing. It's just her nasty, lying tongue saying what her

black old heart wishes could be true." She was speaking in a torrent of trepidation lest he break from her and

do some violence which they would all regret. She did not know what he could do, or would do, but the look

Old Hagar spat viciously at them both, and shrilled vituperative sentencesin her own tongue fortunately;

else the things she said must have brought swift retribution. And as if she did not care for consequences and

wanted to make her words carry a definite sting, she stopped, grinned maliciously, and spoke the choppy

"Yo' tellum me shontisham. Mebbyso yo' tellum yo' no ketchum Squawtalkfaroff in sagebrush, all time

Saunders go dead! Me ketchum hairSquawtalkfaroff hair. You like for see, you thinkum me tell lies?"

From under her blanket she thrust forth a greasy brown hand, and shook triumphantly before them a tangled

wisp of woman's hairthe hair of Miss Georgie, without a doubt. There was no gainsaying that color and

"Yo' like see, me show whereum walk," she said grimly. "Good Injun boot make track, Squawtalkfaroff

little shoe make track. Me show, yo' thinkum mebbyso me tell lie. Stoppum in sagebrush, ketchum hair. Me

ketchum knifeGood Injun knife, mebbyso." Revenge mastered cupidity, and she produced that also, and

"I don't believe a word you say," she declared stubbornly. "You STOLE that knife. I suppose you also stole

"Squawtalkfaroff run, run heap fas', get home quick. Me seeum, Viney seeum, Lucy seeum." Hagar

pointed to each as she named her, and waited until they give a confirmatory nod. The two squaws gazed

steadily at the ground, and she grunted and ignored them afterward, content that they bore witness to her truth

"Squawtalkfaroff sabe Good Injun killum Manthatcoughs, mebbyso," she hazarded, watching Good

"If you've said all you want to say, you better go," Good Indian told her after a moment of silence while they

glared at each other. "I won't touch youbecause you're such a devil I couldn't stop short of killing you,

He stopped, held his lips tightly shut upon the curses he would not speak, and Evadna felt his biceps tauten

under her fingers as if he were gathering himself for a lunge at the old squaw. She looked up beseechingly

into his face, and saw that it was sharp and stern, as it had been that morning when the men had first been

discovered in the orchard. He raised his free arm, and pointed imperiously to the trail.

Viney and Lucy shrank from the tone of him, and, hiding their faces in a fold of blanket, slunk silently away

like dogs that have been whipped and told to go. Even Hagar drew back a pace, hardy as was her untamed

spirit. She looked at Evadna clinging to his arm, her eyes wide and startlingly blue and horrified at all she had

heard. She laughed thendid Hagarand waddled after the others, her whole body seeming to radiate

"There's nothing on earth can equal the malice of an old squaw," said Phoebe, breaking into the silence which

followed. "I'd hope she don't go around peddling that storynot that anyone would believe it, but"

Good Indian looked at her, and at Evadna. He opened his lips for speech, and closed them without saying a

word. That near he came to telling them the truth about meeting Miss Georgie, and explaining about the hair

and the knife and the footprints Hagar had prated about. But he thought of Rachel, and knew that he would

never tell anyone, not even Evadna. The girl loosened his arm, and moved toward her aunt.

"I hate Indianssquaws especially," she said positively. "I hate the way they look at one with their beady

eyes, just like snakes. I believe that horrid old thing lies awake nights just thinking up nasty, wicked lies to

tell about the people she doesn't like. I don't think you ought to ride around alone so much, Grant; she might

"What do you suppose made her ring Georgie Howard in like that?" Phoebe speculated, looking at Grant.

"I don't know why." Good Indian spoke unguardedly, because he was still thinking of Rachel and those

laboriously printed words which he had scattered afar. "She's always giving them candy and fruit, whenever

"Ohh!" Evadna gave the word that peculiar, sliding inflection of hers which meant so much, and regarded

Good Indian knew well the meaning of both her tone and her stare, but he only laughed and caught her by the

"Come on over to the hammock," he commanded, with all the arrogance of a lover. "We're making that old

hag altogether too important, it seems to me. Come on, Goldilockswe haven't had a real satisfying sort of

She permitted him to lead her to the hammock, and pile three cushions behind her head and shoulderswith

the darkblue one on top because her hair looked well against itand dispose himself comfortably where he

could look his fill at her while he swung the hammock gently with his bootheel, scraping a furrow in the

sand. But she did not show any dimples, though his eyes and his lips smiled together when she looked at him,

and when he took up her hand and kissed each fingertip in turn, she was as passive as a doll under the

"What's the matter?" he demanded, when he found that her manner did not soften. "Worrying still about what

Good Indian thought he saw the makings of a quarrel in her general attitude, and he thought he might as well

"What are you thinking about? Tell me, Goldilocks," he coaxed, pushing his own troubles to the back of his

"Oh, nothing. I was just wonderingthough it's a trivial matter which is hardly worth mentioningbut I just

happened to wonder how you came to know that Georgie Howard is in the habit of giving candy to the

squawsor anything else. I'm sure I never" She bit her lips as if she regretted having said so much.

Good Indian laughed. In truth, he was immensely relieved; he had been afraid she might want him to explain

something elsesomething which he felt he must keep to himself even in the face of her anger. But thishe

"That's easy enough," he said lightly. "I've seen her do it a couple of times. Maybe Hagar has been keeping an

eye on meI don't know; anyway, when I've had occasion to go to the store or to the station, I've nearly

always seen her hanging around in the immediate vicinity. I went a couple of times to see Miss Georgie about

this land business. She's wise to a lot of lawused to help her father before he died, it seems. And she has

some of his books, I discovered. I wanted to see if there wasn't some means of kicking these fellows off the

ranch without making a lot more trouble for old Peaceful. But after I'd read up and talked the thing over with

her, we decided that there wasn't anything to be done till Peaceful comes back, and we know what he's been

"I suppose," he added, looking at her frankly, "I should have mentioned my going there. But to tell you the

truth, I didn't think anything much about it. It was just business, and when I'm with you, Miss Goldilocks, I

like to forget my troubles. You," he declared, his eyes glowing upon her, "are the antidote. And you wouldn't

"No," said Evadna, in a more amiable tone. "Of course I'm not. But I do think you showed awell, a lack of

confidence in me. I don't see why _I_ can't help you share your troubles. You know I want to. I think you

should have told me, and let me help. But you never do. Just for instancewhy wouldn't you tell me

yesterday where you were before breakfast? I know you were SOMEWHERE, because I looked all over the

place for you," she argued naively. "I always want to know where you are, it's so lonesome when I don't

She was interrupted at that point, which was not strange. The interruption lasted for several minutes, but

Evadna was a persistent little person. When they came back to mundane matters, she went right on with what

"You see, that gave old Hagar a chance to accuse you ofwell, of a MEETING with Georgie. Which I don't

believe, of course. Still, it does seem as if you might have told me in the first place where you had been, and

then I could have shut her up by letting her see that I knew all about it. The horrid, mean old THING! To say

such things, right to your face! AndGrant, where DID she get hold of that knife, do you

supposeandthatbunch ofhair?" She took his hand of her own accord, and patted it, and Evadna was

not a demonstrative kind of person usually. "It wasn't just a tangle, like combings," she went on slowly. "I

noticed particularly. There was a lock as large almost as my finger, that looked as if it had been cut off. And

"Georgie's hair," Good Indian smilingly asserted, "doesn't interest me a little bit. Maybe Hagar scalped Miss

Georgie to get it. If it had been goldy, I'd have taken it away from her if I had to annihilate the whole tribe,

Well, the argument as such was a poor one, to say the least, but it had the merit of satisfying Evadna as mere

logic could not have done, and seemed to allay as well all the doubt that had been accumulating for days past

in her mind. But an hour spent in a hammock in the shadiest part of the grove could not wipe out all memory

of the past few days, nor quiet the uneasiness which had come to be Good Indian's portion.

"I've got to go up on the hill again right after dinner, Squawwithsunhair," he told her at last. "I can't rest,

somehow, as long as those gentlemen are camping down in the orchard. You won't mind, will you?" Which

"Certainly not," Evadna replied calmly. "Because I'm going with you. Oh, you needn't get ready to shake

your head! I'm going to help you, from now on, and talk law and give advice and 'scout around,' as you call it.

I couldn't be easy a minute, with old Hagar on the warpath the way she is. I'd imagine all sorts of things."

"I can stand it if you can. And I haven't seen Georgie for DAYS. She must get horribly lonesome, and it's a

perfect SHAME that I haven't been up there lately. I'm sure she wouldn't treat ME that way." Evadna had put

on her angelic expression. "I WOULD go oftener," she declared virtuously, "only you boys always go off

without saying anything about it, and I'm silly about riding past that Indian camp alone. That squawthe one

that caught Huckleberry the other day, you knowwould hardly let go of the bridle. I was scared to

DEATH, only I wouldn't let her see. I believe now she's in with old Hagar, Grant. She kept asking me where

"I think, on the whole, we'd better wait till after supper when it's cooler, Goldenhair," Good Indian observed,

when she hesitated over something she had not quite decided to say. "I suppose I really ought to stay and help

the boys with that clover patch that Mother Hart is worrying so about. I guess she thinks we're a lazy bunch,

Evadna eyed him with open suspicion, but if she could read his real meaning from anything in his face or his

Good Indian was meditating what he called "making a sneak." He wanted to have a talk with Miss Georgie

himself, and he certainly did not want Evadna, of all people, to hear what he had to say. For just a minute he

wished that they had quarreled again. He went down to the stable, started to saddle Keno, and then decided

that he would not. After all, Hagar's gossip could do no real harm, he thought, and it could not make much

That afternoon when the fourthirtyfive rushed in from the parched desert and slid to a panting halt beside

the station platform, Peaceful Hart emerged from the smoker, descended quietly to the blistering planks, and

nodded through the open window to Miss Georgie at her instrument taking train orders.

Behind him perspired Baumberger, purple from the heat and the beer with which he had sought to allay the

"Howdy, Miss Georgie?" he wheezed, as he passed the window. "Ever see such hot weather in your life? _I_

Miss Georgie glanced at him while her fingers rattled her key, and it struck her that Baumberger had lost a

good deal of his oily amiability since she saw him last. He looked more flabby and looselipped than ever,

and his leering eyes were streaked plainly with the red veins which told of heavy drinking. She gave him a

nod cool enough to lower the thermometer several degrees, and scribbled away upon the yellow pad under

her hand as if Baumberger had sunk into the oblivion her temper wished for him. She looked up immediately,

however, and leaned forward so that she could see Peaceful just turning to go down the steps.

"Oh, Mr. Hart! Will you wait a minute?" she called clearly above the puffing of the engine. "I've something

for you here. Soon as I get this train out" She saw him stop and turn back to the office, and let it go at that

"I sure have got my nerve," she observed mentally when the conductor had signaled the engineer and swung

up the steps of the smoker, and the wheels were beginning to clank. All she had for Peaceful Hart in that

office was anxiety over his troubles. "Just held him up to pry into his private affairs," she put it bluntly to

herself. But she smiled at him brightly, and waited until Baumberger had gone lumbering with rather

uncertain steps to the store, where he puffed up the steps and sat heavily down in the shade where Pete

"I lied to you, Mr. Hart," she confessed, engagingly. "I haven't a thing for you except a lot of questions, and I

simply must ask them or die. I'm not just curious, you know. I'm horribly anxious. Won't you take the seat of

honor, please? The ranch won't run off if you aren't there for a few minutes after you had expected to be. I've

been waiting to have a little talk with you, and I simply couldn't let the opportunity go by." She talked fast,

but she was thinking faster, and wondering if this calm, whitebearded old man thought her a meddlesome

"There's time enough, and it ain't worth much right now," Peaceful said, sitting down in the beribboned

rocker and stroking his beard in his deliberate fashion. "It seems to be getting the fashion to be anxious," he

"You just about swear by old Baumberger, don't you?" she began presently, fiddling with her lead pencil and

"Well, I dunno. I've kinda learned to fight shy of swearing by anybody, Miss Georgie." His mild blue eyes

"That's some encouragement, anyhow," she sighed. "Because he's the biggest old blackguard in Idaho and

more treacherous than any Indian ever could be if he tried. I just thought I'd tell you, in case you didn't know

it. I'm certain as I can be of anything, that he's at the bottom of this placerclaim fraud, and he's just digging

your ranch out from under your feet while he wheedles you into thinking he's looking after your interests. I'll

bet you never got an injunction against those eight men," she hazarded, leaning toward him with her eyes

sparkling as the subject absorbed all her thoughts. "I'll bet anything he kept you fiddling around until those

fellows all filed on their claims. And now it's got to go till the case is finally settled in court, because they are

"Grant," she said, and her voice nearly betrayed her when she spoke his name, "was sure they faked the gold

samples they must have used in filing. We both were sure of it. He and the boys tried to catch them at some

crooked work, but the nights have been too dark, for one thing, and they were always on the watch, and went

up to Shoshone in couples, and there was no telling which two meant to sneak off next. So they have all filed,

"Yes, they've all filedtwenty acres apiecethe best part of the ranch. There's a forty runs up over the

bluff; the lower line takes in the house and barn and down into the garden where the man they call Stanley

run his line through the strawberry patch. That forty's mine yet. It's part uh the homestead. The meadowland

is most all included. That was a preemption claim." Peaceful spoke slowly, and there was a note of

"Well, they've got to prove that those claims of theirs are lawful, you know. And if you've got your patent for

the homesteadyou have got a patent, haven't you?" Something in his face made her fling in the question.

"Yesor I thought I had one," he answered dryly. "It seems now there's a flaw in it, and it's got to go back

Miss Georgie half rose from her chair, and dropped back despairingly. "Who found that mistake?" she

"Yes, Baumberger. He thought we better go over all the papers ourselves, so the other side couldn't spring

anything on us unawares, and there was one paper that hadn't been made out right. So it had to be fixed, of

"Oh, of course!" Miss Georgie went to the window to make sure of the gentleman's whereabouts. He was still

sitting upon the store porch, and he was just in the act of lifting a tall, glass mug of beer to his gross mouth

when she looked over at him. "Pig!" she gritted under her breath. "It's a pity he doesn't drink himself to

"You spoke a while ago as if you didn't trust him implicitly," she said. "I firmly believe he hired those eight

men to file on your land. I believe he also hired Saunders to watch Grant, for some reasonperhaps because

Grant has shown his hostility from the first. Did you know Saundersor someonehas been shooting at

Grant from the top of the bluff forwell, ever since you left? The last shot clipped his hatbrim. Then

Saunders was shotor shot himself, according to the inquestand there has been no more rifle practice

"Nno, I hadn't heard about that." Peaceful pulled hard at his beard so that his lips were drawn slightly apart.

"I don't mind telling yuh," he added slowly, "that I've got another lawyer working on the caseBlack. He

hates Baumberger, and he'd like to git something on him. I don't want Baumberger should know anything

about it, though. He takes it for granted I swallow whole everything he says and doesbut I don't. Not by a

"He's a dandy if he catches Baumberger," Miss Georgie averred, gloomily. "I tried a little detective work on

my own account. I hadn't any right; it was about the cipher messages Saunders used to send and receive so

often before your place was jumped. I was dead sure it was old Baumberger at the other end, and Iwell, I

struck up a mild sort of flirtation with the operator at Shoshone." She smiled deprecatingly at Peaceful.

"I wanted to find outand I did by writing a nice letter or two; we have to be pretty cute about what we send

over the wires," she explained, "though we do talk back and forth quite a lot, too. There was a newsagent

and cigar manyou know that kind of joint, where they sell paper novels and magazines and tobacco and

suchgetting Saunders' messages. Jim Wakely is his name. He told the operator that he and Saunders were

just practicing; they were going to be detectives, he said, and rigged up a cipher that they were learning

together so they wouldn't need any codebook. Pretty thin thatbut you can't prove it wasn't the truth. I

managed to find out that Baumberger buys cigars and papers of Jim Wakely sometimes; not always, though."

"So all I got out of that," she finished, "was a correspondence I could very well do without. I've been trying to

quarrel with that operator ever since, but he's so darned easytempered!" She went and looked out of the

"He's guzzling beer over there, and from the look of him he's had a good deal more than he needs already,"

she informed Peaceful. "He'll burst if he keeps on. I suppose I shouldn't keep you any longerhe's looking

this way pretty often, I notice; nothing but the beerkeg holds him, I imagine. And when he empties that"

"Maybe you could bribe Jim Wakely into giving something away," she suggested. "I'd sure like to see

Baumberger stub his toe in this deal! Or maybe you could get around one of those eight beauties you've got

camping down on your ranchbut there isn't much chance of that; he probably took good care to pick clams

for that job. And Saunders," she added slowly, "is eternally silent. Well, I hope in mercy you'll be able to

Peaceful rose stiffly,and took up his hat from where he had laid it on the table.

"I ain't as hopeful as I was a week ago," he admitted mildly. "Put if there's any justice left in the courts, I'll

save the old ranch. My wife and I worked hard to make it what it is, and my boys call it home. We can't save

it by anything but law. Fightin' would only make a bad matter worse. I'm obliged to yuh, Miss Georgie, for

"Don't build any hopes on Jim," she warned. "He probably doesn't know anything except that he sent and

"Wellthere's always a way out, if we can find it. Come down and see us some time. We still got a house to

invite our friends to." He smiled drearily at her, gave a little, oldfashioned bow, and went over to join

Miss Georgie, keeping an uneasy vigil over everything that moved in the barren portion of Hartley which her

window commanded, saw Pete get up and start listlessly toward the stable; saw Peaceful sit down to wait;

and then Pete drove up with the rig, and they started for the ranch. She turned with a startled movement to the

"How, Hagar, and Viney, and Lucy," she greeted languidly when she saw the three squaws sidle closer, and

Hagar's greasy paw stretched out greedily for the gift, and placed it in jealous hiding beneath her blanket, but

she did not turn to go, as she most frequently did after getting what she came for. Instead, she waddled boldly

into the office, her eyes searching cunningly every corner of the little room. Viney and Lucy remained

outside, passively waiting. Hagar twitched at something under her blanket, and held out her hand again; this

Miss Georgie stared fixedly at the hand, and said nothing. Hagar drew it under her blanket, held it fumbling

"Ketchum where ketchum hair," she said, and her wicked old eyes twinkled with malice. "Mebbyso yo' like

Miss Georgie still stared, and said nothing. Her under lip was caught tightly between her teeth by now, and

"Ketchum much track, same place," said Hagar grimly. "Good Injun makeum track all same boot. Seeum

Good Injun creep, creep in bushes, all time Manthatcoughs be heap kill. Yo' buy hair, buy knife, mebbyso

me no tell me seeum Good Injun. Me tell, Good Injun go for jail; mebbyso killum rope." She made a horrible

gesture of hanging by the neck. Afterward she grinned still more horribly. "Ketchum plenty mo' dolla, me no

Miss Georgie felt blindly for her chair, and when she touched it she backed and sank into it rather heavily.

"Yo' no like for Good Injun be killum rope," she chuckled. "Yo' all time thinkum heap bueno. Mebbyso yo'

Miss Georgie passed a hand slowly over her eyes. She felt numb, and she could not think, and she must think.

A shuffling sound at the door made her drop her hand and look up, but there was nothing to lighten her

oppressive sense of danger to Grant. Another squaw had appeared, was all. A young squaw, with brightred

ribbons braided into her shining black hair, and great, sad eyes brightening the dull copper tint of her face.

"You no be 'fraid," she murmured shyly to Miss Georgie, and stopped where she was just inside the door.

Hagar turned, and snarled at her in short, barking words which Miss Georgie could not understand. The

young squaw folded her arms inside her bright, plaid shawl, and listened with an indifference bordering

closely on contempt, one would judge from her masklike face. Hagar turned from berating her, and thrust out

"I go. Sun go 'way, mebbyso I come. Mebbyso yo' heart bad. Me ketchum much dolla yo', me no tellum,

mebbyso. No ketchum, me tell sheriff mans Good Injun all time killum Manthatcoughs." Turning, she

waddled out, jabbing viciously at the young squaw with her elbow as she passed, and spitting out some sort

"You no be 'fraid," she repeated softly. "I friend. I take care. No trouble come Good Injun. I no let come. You

no be sad." She smiled wistfully, and was gone, as silently as moved her shadow before her on the cinders.

Miss Georgie stood by the window with her fingernails making little red halfmoons in her palms, and

watched the three squaws pad out of sight on the narrow trail to their camp, with the young squaw following

after, until only a black head could be seen bobbing over the brow of the hill. When even that was gone, she

turned from the window, and stood for a long minute with her hands pressed tightly over her face. She was

trying to think, but instead she found herself listening intently to the monotonous "AhhCHUCK!

ahhCHUCK!" of the steam pump down the track, and to the spasmodic clicking of an order from the

When the train was cleared and the wires idle, she went suddenly to the table, laid her fingers purposefully

upon the key, and called up her chief. It was another two hours' leave of absence she asked for "on urgent

business." She got it, seasoned with a sarcastic reminder that her business was supposed to be with the

railroad company, and that she would do well to cultivate exactness of expression and a taste for her duties in

She was putting on her hat even while she listened to the message, and she astonished the man at the other

end by making no retort whatever. She almost ran to the store, and she did not ask Pete for a saddlehorse;

she just threw her office key at him, and told him she was going to take his bay, and she was at the stable

before he closed the mouth he had opened in amazement at her whirlwind departure.

Baumberger climbed heavily out of the rig,and went lurching drunkenly up the path to the house where the

cool shade of the grove was like paradise set close against the boundary of the purgatory of blazing sunshine

and scorching sand. He had not gone ten steps from the stable when he met Good Indian face to face.

"Hullo," he growled, stopping short and eying him malevolently with lowered head.

Good Indian's lips curled silently, and he stepped aside to pursue his way. Baumberger swung his huge body

Baumberger leered at him offensively. "Pretty Polly! Never learned but one set uh words in his life. Can't yuh

"I could say a whole lot that you wouldn't be particularly glad to hear." Good Indian stopped, and faced him,

coldly angry. For one thing, he knew that Evadna was waiting on the porch for him, and could see even if she

could not hear; and Baumberger's attitude was insulting. "I think," he said meaningly, "I wouldn't press the

"I wouldn't ask, if I were you. But if you really want to know, I'm the fellow you hired Saunders to shoot.

You blundered that time. You should have picked a better man, Mr. Baumberger. Saunders couldn't have hit

"I'll make a better job, then!" he bellowed. "Saunders was a fool. I told him to get down next the trail and

make a good job of it. I told him to kill you, you lying, renegade Injunand if he couldn't, I can! Yuh WILL

Good Indian backed from him in sheer amazement. Epithets unprintable poured in a stream from the loose,

evil lips. Baumberger was a raving beast of a man. He would have torn the other to pieces and reveled in the

doing. He bellowed forth threats against Good Indian and the Harts, young and old, and vaunted rashly the

things he meant to do. Heatmad and drinkmad he was, and it was as if the dam of his wily amiability had

broken and let loose the whole vile reservoir of his pirate mind. He tried to strike Good Indian down where he

stood, and when his blows were parried he stopped, swayed a minute in drunken uncertainty, and then make

Another gun spoke then, and Baumberger collapsed in the sand, a quivering heap of gross human flesh. Good

Indian stood and looked down at him fixedly while the smoke floated away from the muzzle of his own gun.

He heard Evadna screaming hysterically at the gate, and looked over there inquiringly. Phoebe was running

toward him, and the boysWally and Gene and Jack, from the blacksmith shop. At the corner of the stable

Miss Georgie was sliding from her saddle, her riding whip clenched tightly in her hand as she hurried to him.

"Oh, GrantGRANT! What have you done? What have you done?" That was Phoebe Hart, saying the same

"Yes." Good Indian glanced once more at the heap before him. "And I'm liable to kill a few more before I'm

through with the deal." He swung short around, discovered that Evadna was clutching his arm and crying, and

pulled loose from her with a gesture of impatience. With the gun still in his hand, he walked quickly down

"He's mad! The boy is mad! He's going to kill" Phoebe gave a sob, and ran after him, and with her went

"Oh, choke off!" Wally gritted disgustedly, glancing over his shoulder at them. "Go back to the house, and

STAY there! Ma, make Vad quit that yelling, can't yuh?" He looked eloquently at Jack, keeping pace with

him and smiling with the steely glitter in his eyes. "Women make me sick!" he snorted under his breath.

Peaceful stared after them, went into the stable, and got a blanket to throw over Baumberger's inert body,

stooped, and made sure that the man was dead, with the left breast of his light negligee shirt all blackened

with powder and soaked with blood; covered him well, and tied up the team. Then he went to the house, and

got the old rifle that had killed Indians and buffalo alike, and went quickly through the grove to the garden.

He was a methodical man, and he was counted slow, but nevertheless he reached the scene not much behind

the others. Wally was trying to send his mother to the house with Evadna, and neither would go. Miss

Georgie was standing near Good Indian, watching Stanley with her lips pressed together.

It is doubtful if Good Indian realized what the others were doing. He had gone straight past the line of stakes

to where Stanley was sitting with his back against the lightningstricken apricot tree. Stanley was smoking a

cigarette as if he had heard nothing of the excitement, but his rifle was resting upon his knee in such a manner

that he had but to lift it and take aim. The three others were upon their own claims, and they, also, seemed

Good Indian appraised the situation with a quick glance as he came up, but he did not slacken his pace until

"You're across the dead line, m' son," said Stanley, with lazy significance. "And you, too," he added,

"The dead line," said Good Indian coolly, "is beyond the Point o' Rocks. I'd like to see you on the other side

Stanley looked him over, from the crown of his gray hat to the tips of his ridingboots, and laughed when his

eyes came back to Good Indian's face. But the laugh died out rather suddenly at what he saw there.

"I've got something better than papers. Your boss is dead. I shot him just now. He's lying back there by the

stable." Good Indian tilted his head backward, without taking his eyes from Stanley's faceand Stanley's

right hand, too, perhaps. "If you don't want the same medicine, I'd advise you to quit."

"Well, they can't hang a man more than once. I'll see this ranch cleaned up while I'm about it. I'd just as

Stanley sat on his haunches, and regarded him unwinkingly for so long that Phoebe's nerves took a panic, and

she drew Evadna away from the place. The boys edged closer, their hands resting suggestively upon their

gunbutts. Old Peaceful halfraised his rifle, and held it so. It was like being compelled to watch a fuse hiss

"I believe, by heck, you would!" said Stanley at last, and so long a time had elapsed that even Good Indian

had to think back to know what he meant. Stanley squinted up at the sun, hitched himself up so that his back

rested against the tree more comfortably, inspected his cigarette, and then fumbled for a match with which to

relight it. "How'd you find out Baumberger was back uh this deal?" he asked curiously and without any

"I knew, and that's sufficient. The dead line is down past the Point o' Rocks. After sundown this ranch is

going to hold the Harts and their friendsand NO ONE ELSE. Tell that to your pals, unless you've got a

Stanley held his cigarette between his fingers, and blew smoke through his nostrils while he watched Good

Indian turn his back and walk away. He did not easily lose his hold of himself, and this was, with him, a cold

Miss Georgie stood where she was until she saw that Stanley did not intend to shoot Good Indian in the back,

as he might have done easily enough, and followed so quickly that she soon came up with him. Good Indian

turned at the rustling of the skirts immediately behind him, and looked down at her somberly. Then he caught

"Well, every little helps," she retorted, with a miserable attempt at her old breeziness of manner. "I thought

for a minute I'd have to shoot that man Stanleywhen you turned your back on him."

Good Indian stopped, looked at her queerly, and went on again without saying a word.

"I wish," said Phoebe, putting her two hands on Miss Georgie's shoulders at the gate and looking up at her

with haggard eyes, "you'd see what you can do with Vadnie. The poor child's near crazy; she ain't used to

"Where is she?" Good Indian asked tersely, and was answered immediately by the sound of sobbing on the

"Don't cry, Goldilocks," he said tenderly, bending over her. "It's all right now. There isn't going to be any

"Oh! Don't TOUCH me!" She sprang up and backed from him, horror plain in her wide eyes. "Make him

Good Indian straightened, and stood perfectly still, looking at her in a stunned, incredulous way.

"Chicken, don't be silly!" Miss Georgie's sane tones were like a breath of clean air. "You've simply gone all

to pieces. I know what nerves can do to a womanI've had 'em myself. Grant isn't going to bite you, and

you're not afraid of him. You're proud of him, and you know it. He's acted the man, chicken!the man we

knew he was, all along. So pull yourself together, and let's not have any nonsense."

"HeKILLED a man! I saw him do it. And he's going to kill some more. I might have known he was like

that! I might have KNOWN when he tried to shoot me that night in the orchard when I was trying to scare

Gene! I can show you the markwhere he grazed my arm! And he LAUGHED about it! I called him a

savage thenand I was RIGHTonly he can be so nice when he wants to beand I forgot about the Indian

in himand then he killed Mr. Baumberger! He's lying out there now! I'd rather DIE than let him"

Miss Georgie clapped a hand over her mouth, and stopped her. Also, she gripped her by the shoulder

"'Vadna Ramsey, I'm ashamed of you!" she cried furiously. "For Heaven's sake, Grant, go on off somewhere

and wait till she settles down. Don't stand there looking like a stone imagedidn't you ever see a case of

nerves before? She doesn't know what she's sayingif she did, she wouldn't be saying it. You go on, and let

She pushed Evadna before her into the kitchen, waited until Phoebe had followed, and then closed the door

gently and decisively upon Grant. But not before she had given him a heartening smile just to prove that he

"We'd better take her to her room, Mrs. Hart," she suggested, "and make her lie down for a while. That poor

"I'm not on his hands! And I won't lie down!" Evadna jerked away from Miss Georgie, and confronted them

both pantingly, her cheeks still wet with tears. "You act as if I don't know what I'm doing' and I DO know. If

I should lie down for a MILLION YEARS, I'd feel just the same about it. I couldn't bear him to TOUCH me!

"For Heaven's sake, don't shout it," Miss Georgie interrupted, exasperatedly. "Do you want him"

"To hear? _I_ don't care whether he does or not." Evadna was turning sullen at the opposition. "He'll have to

know it SOME TIME, won't he? If you think can forgive a thing like that and let"

"He had to do it. Baumberger would have killed HIM. He had a perfect right to kill. He'd have been a fool

"I WON'T lie down. I don't care if he did have to do itI couldn't love him afterward. And he didn't have to

go down there and threaten StanleyandHE'LL DO IT, TOO!" She fell to trembling again. "He'll DO

Phoebe and Miss Georgie looked at each other. He would, if the men stayed. They knew that.

"And I was going to marry him!" Evadna shuddered when she said it, and covered her face with her two

hands. "He wasn't sorry afterward; you could see he wasn't sorry. He was ready to kill more men. It's the

Indian in him. He LIKES to kill people. He'll kill those men, and he won't be a bit sorry he did it. And he

could come to me afterward and expect meOh, what does he think I AM?" She leaned against the wall, and

"I suppose," she wailed, lashing herself with every bitter thought she could conjure, "he killed Saunders, too,

like old Hagar said. He wouldn't tell me where he was that morning. I asked him, and he wouldn't tell. He

"If you don't shut up, I'll shake you!" Miss Georgie in her fury did not wait, but shook her anyway as if she

"My Heavens above! I'll stand for nerves and hysterics, and almost any old thing, but you're going a little bit

too far, my lady. There's no excuse for your talking such stuff as that, and you're not going to do it, if I have

to gag you! Now, you march to your own room andSTAY there. Do you hear? And don't you dare let

Good Indian stood upon the porch, and heard every word of that. He heard also the shuffle of feet as Miss

Georgie urged Evadna to her roomit sounded almost as if she dragged her there by forceand he rolled a

cigarette with fingers that did not so much as quiver. He scratched a match upon the nearest post, and

afterward leaned there and smoked, and stared out over the pond and up at the bluff glowing yellow in the

sunlight. His face was set and expressionless except that it was stoically calm, and there was a glitter deep

down in his eyes. Evadna was right, to a certain extent the Indian in him held him quiet.

It occurred to him that someone ought to pick up Baumberger, and put him somewhere, but he did not move.

The boys and Peaceful must have stayed down in the garden, he thought. He glanced up at the tops of the

nodding poplars, and estimated idly by their shadow on the bluff how long it would be before sundown, and

as idly wondered if Stanley and the others would go, or stay. There was nothing they could gain by staying,

he knew, now that Baumberger was out of it. Unless they got stubborn and wanted to fight. In that case, he

supposed he would eventually be planted alongside his father. He wished he could keep the boys and old

Peaceful out of it, in case there was a fight, but he knew that would be impossible. The boys, at least, had

Good Indian had, not so long ago, spent hours in avoiding all thought that he might prolong the ecstasy of

mere feeling. Now he had reversed the desire. He was thinking of this thing and of that, simply that he might

avoid feeling. If someone didn't kill him within the next hour or so, he was going to feel

somethingsomething that would hurt him more than he had been hurt since his father died in that same

The shadow of the grove, with the long fingers of tho poplars to point the way, climbed slowly up the bluff.

Good Indian smoked another cigarette while he watched it. When a certain great bowlder that was like a

miniature ledge glowed rosily and then slowly darkened to a chill gray, he threw his cigarette stub unerringly

at a lilypad which had courtesied many a time before to a like missile from his hand, pulled his hat down

over his eyes, jumped off the porch, and started around the house to the gate which led to the stable.

"Grant!" she said, and there were tears in her eyes, "don't do anything rashdon't. If it's for our sakesand I

know it isdon't do it. They'll go, anyway. We'll have the law on them and make them go. But don't YOU

go down there. You let Thomas handle that part. You're like one of my own boys. I can't let you go!"

He looked down at her commiseratingly. "I've got to go, Mother Hart. I've made my wartalk." He hesitated,

bent his head, and kissed her on the forehead as she stood looking up at him, and went on.

"GrantGRANT!" she cried heartbrokenly after him, and sank down on the porchsteps with her face

Miss Georgie was standing beside the gate, looking toward the stable. She may not have been waiting for

"Well, your jumpers seem to have taken the hint," she informed him, with a sort of surface cheerfulness.

"Stanley is down there talking to Mr. Hart now, and the others have gone on. They'll all be well over the

deadline by sundown. There goes Stanley now. Do you really feel that your future happiness depends on

getting through this gate? Wellif you must" She swung it open, but she stood in the opening.

"Grant, Iit's hard to say just what I want to saybutyou did right. You acted the man's part. No matter

whatothersmay think or say, remember that I think you did right to kill that man. And if there's anything

under heaven that I can do, toto helpyou'll let me do it, won't you?" Her eyes held him briefly,

unabashed at what they might tell. Then she stepped back, and contradicted them with a little laugh. "I will

get fired sure for staying over my time," she said. "I'll wire for the coroner soon as I get to the office. This

will never come to a trial, Grant. He was like a crazy man, and we all saw him shoot first."

She waited until he had passed through and was a third of the way to the stable where Peaceful Hart and his

boys were gathered, and then she followed him briskly, as if her mind was taken up with her own affairs.

"It's a shame yon fellows got cheated out of a scrap," she taunted Jack, who held her horse for her while she

settled herself in the saddle. "You were all spoiling for a fightand there did seem to be the makings of a

Save for the fact that she kept her eyes studiously turned away from a certain place near by, where the dust

was pressed down smoothly with the weight of a heavy body, and all around was trampled and tracked, one

But Good Indian seemed to recall something, and went quickly over to her just in time to prevent her starting.

"Was there something in particular you wanted when you came?" he asked, laying a hand on the neck of the

She leaned so that the others could not hear, and her face was grave enough now.

"Why, yes. It's old Hagar. She came to me this afternoon, and she had that bunch of hair you cut off that was

snarled in the bush. She had your knife. She wanted me to buy themthe old blackmailer! She made threats,

Grantabout Saunders. She says youI came right down to tell you, because I was afraid she might make

trouble. But there was so much more on hand right here"she glanced involuntarily at the trampled place in

the dust. "She said she'd come back this evening, 'when the sun goes away.' She's there now, most likely.

"If you'll ride on slowly," he told her, at last straightening the twisted lock, "I'll overtake you. I think I'd better

Secretly he was rather thankful for further action. He told the boys when they fired questions at his hurried

saddling that he was going to take Miss Georgie home, and that he would be back before long; in an hour,

probably. Then he galloped down the trail, and overtook her at the Point o' Rocks.

The sun was down, and the sky was a great, glowing mass of color. Round the second turn of the grade they

came upon Stanley, walking with his hands thrust in his trousers pockets and whistling softly to himself as if

"Abandoning my claim," he announced, lightly as a man of his prosaic temperament could speak upon such a

Good Indian scowled at him and rode on, because a woman rode beside him. Seven others they passed farther

up the hill. Those seven gave him scowl for scowl, and did not speak a word; that also because a woman rode

From the Indian camp, back in the sageinclosed hollow, rose a sound of highkeyed wailing. The two heard

"Something's up over there," Good Indian said, answering her look. "That sounds to me like the squaws

"Let's go and see. I'm so late now, a few minutes more won't matter, one way or the other." Miss Georgie

pulled out her watch, looked at it, and made a little grimace. So they turned into the winding trail, and rode

There were confusion, and wailing, and a buzzing of squaws around a certain wikiup. Dogs sat upon their

haunches, and howled lugubriously until someone in passing kicked them into yelping instead. Papooses

stood nakedly about, and regarded the uproar solemnly, running to peer into the wikiup and then scamper

back to their less hardy fellows. Only the bucks stood apart in haughty unconcern, speaking in undertones

when they talked at all. Good Indian commanded Miss Georgie to remain just outside the camp, and himself

rode in to where the bucks were gathered. Then he saw Peppajee sitting beside his own wikiup, and went to

"What's the matter here, Peppajee?" he asked. "Heap trouble walk down at Hart Ranch. Trouble walk here all

"Heap much trouble come. Squaw callum Hagar make much talk. Do much bad, mebbyso. Squaw Rachel

ketchum bad heart along yo'. Heap cry all time. No sleepum, no eatumall time heap sad. Ketchum bad

spirit, mebbyso. Ketchum debbil. Sun go 'way, ketchum knife, go Hagar wikiup. Killum Hagarso." He

thrust out his arm as one who stabs. "Killum himselfso." He struck his chest with his clenched fist. "Hagar

"A squaw just died," he told Miss Georgie curtly, when they rode on. But her quick eyes noted a new look in

his face. Before it had been grave and stern and bitter; now it was sorrowful instead.

The next day was a day of dust hanging always over the grade because of much hurried riding up and down; a

day of many strange faces whose eyes peered curiously at the place where Baumberger fell, and at the cold

ashes of Stanley's campfire, and at the Harts and their house, and their horses and all things pertaining in the

remotest degree to the drama which had been played grimly there to its last, tragic "curtain." They stared up

at the rimrock and made various estimates of the distance and argued over the question of marksmanship,

and whether it really took a good shot to fire from the top and hit a man below.

As for the killing of Baumberger, public opinion triedwith the aid of various plugs of tobacco and much

expectorationthe case and rendered a unanimous verdict upon it long before the coroner arrived. "Done

just right," was the verdict of Public Opinion, and the selfconstituted judges manifested their further

approval by slapping Good Indian upon the back when they had a chance, or by solemnly shaking hands with

him, or by facetiously assuring him that they would be good. All of which Grant interpreted correctly as

sympathy and a desire to show him that they did not look upon him as a murderer, but as a man who had the

With everything so agreeably disposed of according to the crudethough none the less true, perhapsethics

of the time and the locality, it was tacitly understood that the coroner and the inquest he held in the grove

beside the house were a mere concession to red tape. Nevertheless a general tension manifested itself when

the jury, after solemnly listening, in their official capacity, to the evidence they had heard and discussed

freely hours before, bent heads and whispered briefly together. There was also a corresponding atmosphere of

relief when the verdict of Public Opinion was called justifiable homicide by the coroner and so stamped with

When that was done they carried Baumberger's gross physical shell away up the grade to the station; and the

dust of his passing settled upon the straggling crowd that censured his misdeeds and mourned not at all, and

yet paid tribute to his dead body with lowered voices while they spoke of him, and with awed silence when

As the sky clears and grows blue and deep and unfathomably peaceful after a storm, as trees windriven

straighten and nod graciously to the little cloudboats that sail the blue above, and wave dainty fingertips of

branches in bon voyage, so did the Peaceful Hart ranch, when the dust had settled after the latest departure

and the whistle of the trainwhich bore the coroner and that other quiet passengercame faintly down over

Peaceful cleared his white mustache and beard from a few stray drops of coffee and let his mild blue eyes

"Now the excitement's all over and done with," he drawled in his halfapologetic tones, "it wouldn't be a bad

idea for you boys to get to work and throw the water back where it belongs. I dunno but what the garden's

"You'll have to do some riding to get there," Good Indian informed them dryly. "They hit the trail before

"Huh! What were YOU doing up there that time of day?" blurted Wally, eying him sharply.

"Watching the sun rise." His lips smiled over the retort, but his eyes did not. "I'll lower the water in your

milkhouse now, Mother Hart," he promised lightly, "so you won't have to wear rubberboots when you go

to skim the milk." He gave Evadna a quick, sidelong glance as she came into the room, and pushed back his

chair. "I'll get at it right away," he said cheerfully, picked up his hat, and went out whistling. Then he put his

head in at the door. "Say," he called, "does anybody know where that longhandled shovel is?" Again he

"If it isn't down at the stable," said Jack soberly, "or by the applecellar or somewhere around the pond or

garden, look along the ditches as far up as the big meadow. And if you don't run across it there" The door

Evadna sank listlessly into her chair and regarded him and all her little world with frank disapproval.

"Upon my WORD, I don't see how anybody can laugh, after what has happened on this place," she said

dismally, "orWHISTLE, after" Her lips quivered a little. She was a distressed Christmas angel, if ever

Wally snorted. "Want us to go CRYING around because the row's over?" he demanded. "Think Grant ought

to wear crepe, I supposebecause he ain't on ice this morningor in jail, which he'd hate a lot worse. Think

we ought to go around with our jaws hanging down so you could step on 'em, because Baumberger cashed

in? Huh! All hurts MY feelings is, I didn't get a whack at the old devil myself!" It was a long speech for

"Grant can run over me sharpshod and I won't say a word, for what he did day before yesterday," declared

Jack, opening his eyes and looking straight at Evadna. "You don't see any tears rolling down MY cheeks, I

"Now, Donny, be careful what language you use," Phoebe admonished, and so cut short his highpitched

"I don't careI think it's perfectly awful." Evadna looked distastefully upon her breakfast. "I just can't sleep

in that room, Aunt Phoebe. I tried not to think about it, but it opens right that way."

"Huh!" snorted Wally. "Board up the window, then, so you can't see the fatal spot!" His gray eyes twinkled.

"I could DANCE on it myself," he said, just to horrify herwhich he did. Evadna shivered, pressed her wisp

"You boys ought to be ashamed of yourselves!" Phoebe scolded halfheartedly; for she had lived long in the

wild, and had seen much that was raw and primitive. "You must take into consideration that Vadnie isn't used

to such things. Why, great grief! I don't suppose the child ever SAW a dead man before in her lifeunless he

was laid out in church with floweranchors piled kneedeep all over him. And to see one shot right before

her very eyesand by the man she expectsor did expect to marrywhy, you can't wonder at her looking

at it the way she does. It isn't Vadnie's fault. It's the way she's been raised."

"Well," observed Wally in the manner of delivering an ultimatum, "excuse ME from any Eastern raising!"

A little later, Phoebe boldly invaded the secret chambers of Good Indian's heart when he was readjusting the

"Now, Grant," she began, laying her hand upon his shoulder as he knelt before her, straining at a heavy rock,

"Mother Hart is going to give you a little piece of her mind about something that's none of her business

"You can give me as many pieces as you like. They're always good medicine," he assured her. But he kept his

head bent so that his hat quite hid his face from her. "What about?" he asked, a betraying tenseness in his

"About Vadnieand you. I notice you don't speakyou haven't that I've seen, since that dayon the porch.

You don't want to be too hard on her, Grant. Remember she isn't used to such things. She looks at it different.

She's never seen the times, as I have, where it's kill or be killed. Be patient with her, Grantand don't feel

hard. She'll get over it. I want," she stopped because her voice was beginning to shake "I want my biggest

boy to be happy." Her hand slipped around his neck and pressed his head against her knee.

Good Indian got up and put his arms around her and held her close. He did not say anything at all for a

"Mother Hart, I stood on the porch and heard what she said in the kitchen. She accused me of killing

Saunders. She said I liked to kill people; that I shot at her and laughed at the mark I made on her arm. She

called me a savagean Indian. My mother's mother was the daughter of a chief. She was a good woman; my

"Mother Hart, I'm a white man in everything but half my mother's blood. I don't remember herbut I respect

her memory, and I am not ashamed because she was my mother. Do you think I could marry a girl who thinks

of my mother as something which she must try to forgive? Do you think I could go to that girl in there

andand take her in my armsand love her, knowing that she feels as she does? She can't even forgive me

"She's a beautiful thingI wanted to have her for my own. I'm a man. I've a healthy man's hunger for a

beautiful woman, but I've a healthy man's pride as well." He patted the smooth cheek of the only woman he

had ever known as a mother, and stared at the rough rock wall oozing moisture that dripdripped to the pool

"I did think I'd go away for awhile," he said after a minute spent in sober thinking. "But I never dodged yet,

and I never ran. I'm going to stay and see the thing through, now. I don't know" he hesitated and then went

on. "It may not last; I may have to suffer after awhile, but standing out there, that day, listening to her

carrying on, kind ofoh, I can't explain it. But I don't believe I wes half as deep in love as I thought I was. I

don't want to say anything against her; I've no right, for she's a thousand times better than I am. But she's

different. She never would understand our ways, Mother Hart, or look at life as we do; some people go

through life looking at the little things that don't matter, and passing by the other, bigger things. If you keep

your eye glued to a microscope long enough, you're sure to lose the sense of proportion.

"She won't speak to me," he continued after a short silence. "I tried to talk to her yesterday"

"But you must remember, the poor child was hysterical that day whenshe went on so. She doesn't know

"Yesterday," said Grant with an odd little smile, "she was not hysterical. It seems thatshootingwas the

last little weight that tilted the scale against me. I don't think she ever cared two whoops for me, to tell you

the truth. She's been ashamed of my Indian blood all along; she said so. And I'm not a good lover; I neglected

her all the while this trouble lasted, and I paid more attention to Georgie Howard than I did to herand I

didn't satisfactorily explain about that hair and knife that Hagar had. Andoh, it isn't the killing, altogether!

"Well, I hope so," sighed Phoebe, wondering secretly at the decadence of love. An emotion that could burn

high and hot in a week, flare bravely for a like space, and die out with no seared heart to pay for the

extravaganceshe shook her head at it. That was not what she had been taught to call love, and she

"I suppose," she added with unusual sarcasm for her, "you'll be falling in love with Georgie Howard, next

thing anybody knows; and maybe that will last a week or ten days before you find out you were

"She would not be eternally apologizing to herself for liking me, anyway," he retorted acrimoniously, as if he

found it very hard to forgive Evadna her conscious superiority of race and upbringing. "Squaw."

"Oh, I haven't a doubt of that!" Phoebe rose to the defense of her own blood. "I don't know as it's in her to

apologize for anything. I never saw such a girl for going right ahead as if her way is the only way!

Bullheaded, I'd call her." She looked at Good Indian afterward, studying his face with motherly solicitude.

"I believe you're half in love with her right now and don't know it!" she accused suddenly.

"ARE you, Grant?" Phoebe laid a moist hand on his shoulder, and felt the muscles sliding smoothly beneath

his clothing while he moved a rock. "I ain't mad because you and Vadnie fell out; I kind of looked for it to

happen. Love that grows like a mushroom lasts about as longonly _I_ don't call it love! You might tell

"Tell you what?" But Grant did not look up. "If I don't know it, I can't tell it." He paused in his lifting and

rested his hands upon his knees, the fingers dripping water back into the spring. He felt that Phoebe was

waiting, and he pressed his lips together. "Must a man be in love with some woman all the time?" He shook

Good Indian felt that she was still waiting, with all the quiet persistence of her sex when on the trail of a

romance. He reached up and caught the hand upon his shoulder, and laid it against his cheek. He laughed

"Squawtalkfaroff heap smart," he mimicked old Peppajee gravely. "Heap bueno." He stood up as

suddenly as he had started his rocklifting a few minutes before, and taking Phoebe by the shoulders, shook

her with gentle insistence. "Put don't make me fall out of one love right into another," he protested