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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/938-0.txt b/938-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e0e07dd --- /dev/null +++ b/938-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9085 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Good Indian, by B. M. Bower + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Good Indian + +Author: B. M. Bower + +Posting Date: July 26, 2008 [EBook #938] +Release Date: June, 1997 +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOOD INDIAN *** + + + + +Produced by Ken Smidge + + + + + +GOOD INDIAN + +by B. M. Bower + +1912 + + + + +Contents: + + I PEACEFUL HART RANCH + II GOOD INDIAN + III OLD WIVES' TALES + IV THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL + V “I DON'T CARE MUCH ABOUT GIRLS” + VI THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL PLAYS GHOST + VII MISS GEORGIE HOWARD, OPERATOR + VIII THE AMIABLE ANGLER + IX PEPPAJEE JIM “HEAP SABES” + X MIDNIGHT PROWLERS + XI “YOU CAN'T PLAY WITH ME” + XII “THEM DAMN' SNAKE” + XIII CLOUD-SIGN VERSUS CUPID + XIV THE CLAIM-JUMPERS + XV SQUAW-TALK-FAR-OFF HEAP SMART + XVI “DON'T GET EXCITED!” + XVII A LITTLE TARGET PRACTICE + XVIII A SHOT FROM THE RIM-ROCK + XIX EVADNA GOES CALLING + XX MISS GEORGIE ALSO MAKES A CALL + XXI SOMEBODY SHOT SAUNDERS + XXII A BIT OF PAPER + XXIII THE MALICE OF A SQUAW + XXIV PEACEFUL RETURN + XXV “I'D JUST AS SOON HANG FOR NINE MEN AS FOR ONE” + XXVI “WHEN THE SUN GOES AWAY” + XXVII LIFE ADJUSTS ITSELF AGAIN TO SMALL THINGS + + + + +GOOD INDIAN + + + + +CHAPTER I. PEACEFUL HART RANCH + +It was somewhere in the seventies when old Peaceful Hart woke to a +realization that gold-hunting and lumbago do not take kindly to one +another, and the fact that his pipe and dim-eyed 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 new-made 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 with and fed, but enemies to be fought, upon occasion. + +They felt that fate had cheated them--did 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 mildest-mannered +man who ever helped to tame the West when it really needed taming, had +somehow fathered five riotous young males to whom fight meant fun--and +the fiercer, the funnier. + +He used to suck at his old, straight-stemmed 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 pale-blue eyes dwell speculatively +upon the face of his wife, Phoebe. Clearly he considered that she was +responsible for their dispositions. + +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, and stole bread from Phoebe's +pantry at night--but that is a story in itself. + +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 buttermilk, and cream. + +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 fingers, far up the bluff when +the sun sank low in the afternoon. + +Behind them grew a small jungle of trees-catalpa and locust among +them--a jungle which surrounded the house, and in summer hid it from +sight entirely. + +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 the frosts came, and +the bees, and humming--birds 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 +planned it for the daughters he had been denied. + +It was an ideal place for hammocks and romance--a place where dainty +maidens might dream their way to womanhood. And Peaceful Hart, when all +was done, grew old watching five full-blooded 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 if he wondered whether, after all, it had +been worth while. + +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 nature. Outside the +fence dwelt sturdier, Western realities. + +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 new-gathered from the orchard or a place at Phoebe's long +table in the great kitchen. + +There was the stone blacksmith shop, where the boys sweated over the +nice adjustment of shoes upon the feet of fighting, wild-eyed horses, +which afterward would furnish a spectacle of unseemly behavior under the +saddle. + +Farther away were the long stable, the corrals where broncho-taming 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 skyline. + +A glint of slithering green showed where the Snake hugged the bluff a +mile away, and a brown trail, ankle-deep in dust, stretched straight out +to the west, and then lost itself unexpectedly behind a sharp, jutting +point of rocks where the bluff had thrust out a rugged finger into the +valley. + +By devious turnings and breath-taking climbs, the trail finally reached +the top at the only point for miles, where it was possible for a +horseman to pass up or down. + +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 settlement or ranch. + +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 Ranch, conjured from the sage and the +sand in the valley of the Snake. + + + +CHAPTER II. GOOD INDIAN + +There is a saying--and if it is not purely Western, it is at least +purely American--that the only good Indian is a dead Indian. In the very +teeth of that, and in spite of the fact that he was neither very good, +nor an Indian--nor in any sense “dead”--men called Grant Imsen “Good +Indian” to his face; and if he resented the title, his resentment was +never made manifest--perhaps 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 man--though they also spoke +of him unthinkingly as “Good Injun.” + +Because old Wolfbelly himself would grudgingly admit under pressure +that the mother of Grant had been the half-caste 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 his--not +even his assured position there could keep him from sometimes feeling +quite alone, and perhaps a trifle bitter over his loneliness. + +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 one of the gold coins in schooling. + +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 claim--others he had which promised little and so +did not count--he 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 faced--incredulously, as is the way +with strong men--the 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 hands, and stared +intently from one face to the other. + +“Mis' Hart, he ain't got--anybody--my folks--I lost track of 'em years +ago. You see to it--git some learnin' in his head. When a man knows +books--it's--like bein' heeled--good gun--plenty uh ca't'idges--in +a fight. When I got that gold--it was like fightin' with my bare +hands--against a gatlin' gun. They coulda cheated me--whole thing--on +paper--I wouldn't know--luck--just luck they didn't. So you take it--and +git the boy schoolin'. Costs money--I know that--git him all it'll +buy. Send him--where they keep--the best. Don't yuh let up--n'er let +him--whilst they's a dollar left. Put it all--into his head--then he +can't lose it, and he can--make it earn more. An'--I guess I needn't +ask yuh--be good to him. He ain't got anybody--not a soul--Injuns don't +count. You see to it--don't let up till--it'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 to--and 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 immediate vicinity. + +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 him. + +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 sage-clothed 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 bitterness. + +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 +blanket and frowsy braids. + +“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 living. + +“Huh! All same buy one good hoss.” The braided one dropped the hat, +hitched his blanket over his shoulder in stoical disregard of the heat, +and turned away. + +Pete replaced the cover, seemed about to place the box upon the shelf +behind him, and then evidently decided that it was not worth the effort. +He sighed again. + +“It is almighty hot,” he mumbled languidly. “Want another drink, Good +Injun?” + +“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 cellar where it isn't two +hundred in the shade. Why don't you?” + +“We was going to get ice t'day, but they didn't throw it off when the +train went through.” + +“That's comforting--to a man with a thirst like the great Sahara. Ice! +Pete, do you know what I'd like to do to a man that mentions ice after a +drink like that?” + +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 going--for a drink out of that spring, if nothing else. +You've lost a good customer to-day, Pete. I rode up here prepared to get +sinfully jagged--and here I've got to go on a still hunt for water with +a chill to it--or maybe buttermilk. Pete, do you know what I think of +you and your joint?” + +“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 post-office. “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 +bareheaded, and carried a door key suspended from a smooth-worn bit of +wood. + +“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 +late--as 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 knows--and 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 post-office, bored beyond words with life as it must be +lived--to judge from her tone and her attitude. + +“For Heaven's sake, Pete,” she went on languidly, “can't you scare up a +novel, or chocolates, or gum, or--ANYTHING to kill time? I'd even enjoy +chewing gum right now--it would give my jaws something to think of, +anyway.” + +Pete, grinning indulgently, came out of retirement behind the +pigeonholes, and looked inquiringly around the store. + +“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 is something to read. Haven't you +even got an almanac?” + +“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 above, those two hours!” She +struck both fists despairingly upon the counter. + +“I've got gumdrops, and fancy mixed--” + +“Forget it, then. A five-pound box of chocolates is due--on 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 desperate I am for something to do!” + +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 In--er--Mr. 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 +twenty-three years old.” He felt that the inference was too plain to be +ignored. + +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 +really pathetic.” + +Pete bristled--as much as a fat man could bristle on so hot a day. +“Well, you said you wanted to flirt, and so I took it for granted you'd +like--” + +Good Indian looked straight past the girl, and scowled at Pete. + +“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 off exactly. Who +is this Mr. Imsen?” + +She got no reply to that. Indeed, she did not wait for a reply. Outside, +things were happening--and, since Miss Georgie was dying of dullness, +she hailed the disturbance as a Heaven-sent blessing, and ran to see +what was going on. + +Briefly, Grant had inadvertently stepped on a sleeping dog's paw--a 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 haste. + +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 drew it tight. + +Saunders, a weak-lunged, bandy-legged 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 +tender-heartedness, waved his arms and called aloud in the name of +peace. + +“Turn him loose, I tell yuh! A helpless critter like that--you oughta be +ashamed--abusin' dumb animals that can't fight back!” + +“Oh, can't he?” Grant laughed grimly. + +“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 able-bodied man, I'd get you, +too--just to have a pair of you. Yelping, snapping curs, both of you.” + He played the dog as a fisherman plays a trout. + +“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 +indifferently. + +“Sure it isn't old Hagar's?” + +“No b'long-um Hagar--b'long-um Viney. Viney heap likum.” + +Grant hesitated, circling erratically with his victim close to the +steps. “All right, no killum--teachum lesson, though. Viney heap bueno +squaw--heap 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 shoulder--blades. “Come +along, doggie--NICE 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 the Indian camp must be. + +Old Wolfbelly had but that morning brought his thirty or forty followers +to camp in the hollow where was a spring of clear water--the 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 +he 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 laughed outright at the +panic of them. + +“Hello! Viney! I brought back your dog,” he drawled. “He tried to bite +me--heap kay bueno* dog. Mebbyso you killum. Me no hurtum--all 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 dog--sabe? No keep--Kay bueno. All time try for bite. You +cookum, no can bite. Sabe?” + +*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 phrase, their like or dislike of an +object or person. + +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 some mail for +the Harts, and turned back to get it. + +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 +dining-car conductor to throw off a chunk of ice. Grant, therefore, led +his horse around into the shade, and made himself comfortable while he +waited. + + + +CHAPTER III. OLD WIVES TALES + +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 of the dog was fresh in their minds +and tickling their tongues. + +The Hart boys were assembled at the corral, halter-breaking a +three-year-old 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 grinned--grinned 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 fourteen-year-old irrepressibility. “Does +anybody know where Vadnie is? If we could spring 'em on her and make her +believe they're on the warpath--say, I'll gamble she'd run clear to the +Malad!” + +“I told her, cross my heart, this morning that the Injuns are peaceful +now. I said Good Injun was the only one that's dangerous--oh, 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 relish. + +“Aw--there'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 gabble--there's old Hagar waddling along like +a duck. You can't make that warpath business stick, Clark--not 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 hour--she's churning, Don--you hide in the rocks by the +milk-house 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 horse-breaking; and for the present Clark held his +peace. + +The squaws hovered there for a moment longer, peeping through the rails. +Then Hagar--she of much flesh and more temper--grunted 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 +which demands that one wait until invited to enter a strange camp. + +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 self-conscious assurance, and led the way +soft-footedly 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 butter-ladle to shake hands all +around. + +“How, Hagar? How, Viney? How, Lucy? Heap glad to see you. Bueno +buttermilk--mebbyso 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 outstretched--though 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 blanket across their +milk-white lips, and grinned in pure animal satisfaction. + +“Bueno. He-e-ap bueno!” they chorused appreciatively, and squatted at +the top of the stone steps, watching Phoebe manipulate the great ball of +yellow butter in its wooden bowl. + +After a brief silence, Hagar shook the tangle of unkempt, black hair +away from her moonlike face, and began talking in a soft monotone, her +voice now and then rising to a shrill singsong. + +“Mebbyso Tom, mebbyso Sharlie, mebbyso Sleeping Turtle all time come +along,” she announced. “Stop all time corral, talk yo' boys. Mebbyso +heap likum drink yo' butter water. Bueno.” + +When Phoebe nodded assent, Hagar went on to the news which had brought +her so soon to the ranch--the news which satisfied both an old grudge +and her love of gossip. + +“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 shoot--kay bueno. Wantum fight +Man-that-coughs. Come all time camp, heap yell, heap shoot some more. I +fetchum dog--Viney dog--heap dragum through sagebrush--dog all time cry, +no can get away--me thinkum kill that dog. Squaws cry--Viney cry--Good +Injun”--Hagar paused here for greater effect--“makum horse all time +buck--ridum in wikiup--Hagar wikiup--all time breakum--no can fix that +wikiup. Good Injun, hee-e-ap 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 dog--me think no catchum. Grant all same my +boy. All time me likum--heap bueno.” + +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 stubborn under lip. + +“Wally boy, heap bueno,” she said; and her malicious old face softened +as she spoke of him, dear as her own first-born. “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, hee-ee-eap kay bueno. Good +Injun Grant all time DEBBIL!” + +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 better-hearted +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 liked Grant. + +“Viney, you tell me. Grant no come Hartley, no drunk, no yell, no +catchum you dog, no ride in Hagar's wikiup? You tell me, Viney.” + +Viney and Lucy bobbed their heads rapidly up and down. Viney, with a +sidelong glance at Hagar, spoke softly. + +“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 dog--dog kay bueno, mebbyso me +killing. Good Injun Grant no heap yell, no shoot all time--mebbyso no +drunk. No breakum wikiup. Horse all time kay bueno, Hagar--” + +“Shont-isham!” (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, +despaired of getting any nearer the truth from any of them. + +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 voice--for the squaws knew well the few women +voices along the Snake. + +“That my girl,” Phoebe explained, stopping the soft pat--pat of her +butter-ladle. + +“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 +boys--mebbyso 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 +mother--all 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 importance; but Phoebe was accustomed to treat them like spoiled +children. + +Hagar's lip was out-thrust again. “Yo' ketchum one girl, mebbyso yo' no +more likum my boy Wally. Kay bueno.” + +“Heap like all my boys jus' same,” Phoebe hastened to assure her, and +added with a hint of malice, “Heap like my boy Grant all same.” + +“Huh!” Hagar chose to remain unconvinced and antagonistic. “Good Injun +kay bueno. Yo' girl, mebbyso kay bueno.” + +“What name yo' girl?” Viney interposed hastily. + +“Name Evadna Ramsey.” In spite of herself, Phoebe felt a trifle chilled +by their lack of enthusiasm. She went back to her butter-making in +dignified silence. + +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 right--perhaps 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 by fate, stirred slightly, her nostrils aquiver. + +“Mebbyso bueno yo' girl,” she yielded, speaking softly. “Mebbyso see +yo' girl.” + +Phoebe's face cleared, and she called, in mellow crescendo: “Oh, +Va-ad-NIEE?” Immediately the singing stopped. + +“Coming, Aunt Phoebe,” answered the voice. + +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 of antagonism +even to the soft eyes of Lucy, the tender, childless one. + +“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 you--and don't look so horrified, +honey!” + +Those incorrigibles, her cousins, would have whooped with joy at her +unmistakable terror when she held out a trembling hand and gasped +faintly: “H-how do you--do?” + +“This Hagar,” Phoebe announced cheerfully; and the old squaw caught the +girl's hand and gripped it tightly for a moment in malicious enjoyment +of her too evident fear and repulsion. + +“This Viney.” + +Viney, reading Evadna's face in one keen, upward glance, kept her hands +hidden in the folds of her blanket, and only nodded twice reassuringly. + +“This Lucy.” + +Lucy read also the girl's face; but she reached up, pressed her hand +gently, and her glance was soft and friendly. So the ordeal was over. + +“Bring some of that cake you baked to-day, honey--and 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 +blankets into place, and vanished, soft-footed as they had come. + +“Oo-oo!” Evadna stared at the place where they were not. “Wild +Indians--I thought the boys were just teasing when they said so--and +it's really true, Aunt Phoebe?” + +“They're no wilder than you are,” Phoebe retorted impatiently. + +“Oh, they ARE wild. They're exactly like in my history--and they don't +make a sound when they go--you just look, and they're gone! That old fat +one--did you see how she looked at me? As if she wanted to--SCALP me, +Aunt Phoebe! She looked right at my hair and--” + +“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 get used to them--” + +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 milk-house, he dragged the +squaw along beside the porch, followed by the Indians and all the Hart +boys, a yelling, jeering audience. + +“You tell her shont-isham! Ah-h--you can't break loose, you old +she-wildcat. Quit your biting, will you? By all the big and little +spirits of your tribe, you'll wish--” + +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 unsentient stone. + +“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 Hart--didn'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 +yell--all time bueno.' Quick, or I'll land you headforemost in that +pond, you infernal old hag!” + +“Good Injun hee-eeap kay bueno! Heap debbil all time.” Hagar might be +short of breath, but her spirit was unconquered, and her under lip bore +witness to her stubbornness. + +Phoebe caught him by the arm then, thinking he meant to make good his +threat--and it would not have been unlike Grant Imsen to do so. + +“Now, Grant, you let her go,” she coaxed. “I know you aren't drunk--of +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, Grant--a man +can't fight a woman--” + +“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 shoe--shook her till her hair quite hid her ugly old face from +sight. + +“All right--Mother 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 shont-isham. Him all +time my friend--mebbyso him no likum you no more. + +“Huh. Get out--pikeway before I forget you're a lady!” + +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 milk-house wall; and when they were gone, he +gave a short, apologetic laugh. + +“No need to lecture, Mother Hart. I know it was a fool thing to do; but +when Donny told me what the old devil said, I was so mad for a minute--” + +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 kitchen-door shut, and the click of the lock. +He heard other doors slam suggestively; and he laughed in spite of his +astonishment. + +“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 ranch--and 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 like--” + +“Yes--sure. But who is the timid lady?” + +“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--” + +Wally Hart came back, laughing to himself. + +“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 alive--she 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, mum--she said so. You're kay bueno yourself, because you take Good +Indian's part. We're all kay bueno--all 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 yuh do to her, anyway?” + +“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 +days--if 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 Viney, So I just led him gently to camp.” + +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 wikiup--and one sniff seemed to be +about all he wanted. He didn't hurt anything.” + +He took a meditative bite of cake, finished the buttermilk in three +rapturous swallows, and bethought him of the feminine mystery. + +“If you please, Mother Hart, who was that Christmas angel I squashed?” + +“Vad? Was Vad in on it, mum? I never saw her.” Wally straightened up +with a fresh chunk of cake in his hand. “Was she scared?” + +“Yes,” his mother admitted reluctantly, “I guess she was, all right. +First the squaws--and, poor girl, I made her shake hands all round--and +then Grant here, acting like a wild hyena--” + +“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 I should have appeared at my best. But who she is, or where she +belongs--” + +“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 her--and 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 stranger--a girl especially. And I did hope Grant would behave +better.” + +“Sure, he ought to. Us boneheads don't know any better--but Grant's +EDUCATED.” Wally grinned and winked elaborately at his mother's back. + +“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 months or so, you wouldn't +know the girl,” Phoebe argued, with some heat. + +“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 war-whoop outa me, she'd look at me--the 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 the truth. + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL + +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 +thing--but 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 nice--she's most too nice. I've got to give that girl a +good talking to.” + +She mounted the steps to the back porch, tried the 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 next. + +“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 old-fashioned 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 +brown-and-white calico dress close about her plump person, and crawled +grimly through into the sitting-room, where, to the distress of Phoebe's +order-loving soul, the carpet was daily well-sanded with the tread of +boys' boots fresh from outdoors, and where cigarette stubs decorated +every window-sill, 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 good-natured threats of various sorts, had never before barred the +way of any man, be he red or white, came he at noon or at midnight. + +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 +pillow. + +“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 the barricaded door; and in a minute a vividly blue eye appeared at +a narrow crack. + +“Oh, I don't see how you dare to L-LIVE in such a place, Aunt Phoebe!” + she cried tearfully, opening the door a bit wider. “Those Indians--and +that awful man--” + +“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 +gentle--it'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 done a thing to them--but they're +horrid and rough, anyway--” + +“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 you--I 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. You--you'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 +with a moist ball of handkerchief. + +“I know they don't, honey.” Phoebe patted her hand reassuringly. “That's +what I want you to help me teach my boys--to be real gentlemen. They're +pure gold, every one of them; but I can't deny they're pretty rough on +the outside sometimes. And I hope you will be--” + +“Oh, I know. I understand perfectly. You just got me out here as a--a +sort of sandpaper for your boys' manners!” Evadna choked over a little +sob of self-pity. “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 sensitive, because he feels his loneliness. No one +understands him as I do--” + +“I hate him!” gritted Evadna, in an emphatic whisper which her Aunt +Phoebe thought it wise not to seem to hear. + +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 bed. + +“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 you'll not disappoint her. +You'll try; won't you, Vadnie?” + +“Y--yes,” 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 +none--there wasn't anything mushy about them that I ever heard of.” + +“Mushy! MUSHY!” Evadna sat up and stared at nothing at all while she +repeated the word under her breath. “She wants me to be gentle--she +preached gentleness in her letters, and told how her boys need it, and +then--she calls it being MUSHY!” + +She reached mechanically for her hair-brush, and fumbled in a tumbled +mass of shining, yellow hair quite as unbelievable in its way as were +her eyes--Grant had shown a faculty for observing keenly when he called +her a Christmas angel--and 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 +frankness, “and tarantulas and snakes--but--MUSHY!” + +Grant stood smoking in the doorway of the sitting-room, 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 +walked straight over to him. + +“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 employ--but his eyes turned for a +sidelong glance at her, although he appeared to be watching the trout +rise lazily to the insects skimming over the surface of the water. + +“I'm supposed to be nice to you--par-TIC-ularly nice--because 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 you--I 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 dislike you all the time.” + +Grant's lips twitched, and there was a covert twinkle in his eyes, +though he looked around him with elaborate surprise. + +“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 benefited--his teeth will be dulled for his +prey, his voice softened for the nightcry--if he should ever, by chance, +discover that the Christmas angel is there.” + +“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.” + +Grant turned his head indolently and regarded her. + +“If it isn't a Christmas angel--they're always very blue and very +golden, and pinky-whitey--if 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 +beyond his solving, and flicked the ashes from his cigarette. + +“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 squashed?” + +“I just wish to goodness I had! Only I suppose Aunt Phoebe--” + +“I do believe it's got a temper. I wonder, now, if it could be a LIVE +angel?” Grant spoke to the softly swaying poplars. + +“Oh, you--there 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 +whether I'm alive!” she panted vindictively. + +“It's alive, and it's a humming-bird. 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 humming-birds--so simple and so harmless!” + +“And I've promised to be nice to--THAT!” 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, and landed lightly upon her slippered feet. + +“I hate you--hate you--HATE YOU!” she cried, her eyes blazing up at his +amused face before she ran off among the trees. + +“It sings a sweet little song,” he taunted, and his laughter followed +her mockingly as she fled from him into the shadows. + +“What's the joke, Good Injun? Tell us, so we can laugh too.” Wally +and Jack hurried in from the kitchen and made for the doorway where he +stood. + +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 as a sleepy bird's fluttering wings. + +“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 grove, “we certainly did go some!” + + + +CHAPTER V. “I DON'T CARE MUCH ABOUT GIRLS” + +“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 trouble--and, besides, they're scared of dad. I was +talking to Sleeping Turtle just now--met him down there past the Point +o' Rocks.” + +“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 her--say, 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 milk-house,” Wally suggested dryly. + +“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 the dead, she did!” + +“Kill the traitor! Down with him! Curses on the man who betrays us!” + growled Wally, waving his cigarette threateningly. + +Whereupon Gene and Clark seized the offender by heels and shoulders, and +with a brief, panting struggle heaved him bodily off the porch. + +“Over the cliff he goes--so may all traitors perish!” Wally declaimed +approvingly, drawing up his legs hastily out of the way of Jack's +clutching fingers. + +“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 supper--and, 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 blanket, and to have one right at +her elbow--wonder where she is--” + +“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, yes--sure. Jack's coming down with it already. You oughta be +quarantined, old-timer; 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 sitting-room 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 hard together. She did not look, at that moment, in the least +degree “mushy.” + +When the triangle clanged its supper call, however, she came slowly down +from her favorite nook at the head of the pond, her hands filled with +flowers hastily gathered in the dusk. + +“Here she comes--let'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 sugar-bowl was going after, when she settled herself and her ruffles +daintily between Grant and a braided, green-blanketed, 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 +sugar-bowl 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. All 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 more--kay 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 wachee-typo” (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 of an affectation with Peppajee. + +“My brother, my brother's wife, my brother's wife's--ah--” 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 tea--ketchum +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. + +“Isn't it a shame they should do that,” she murmured sympathetically. + +“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.” Evadna +blushed, and looked studiously at her plate. + +“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 tea--them folks all time eatum grub, me no +ketchum. Me no playum cards, all same otha fella ketchum my grub. Kay +bueno. Better me playum cards mebbyso all time. + +“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 old-fashioned, silver castor which always +stood in the exact center of the table. + +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 face aslant. It was Good Indian who rebuked the offender. + +“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, whose grin was growing rather pronounced. + +“Huh. Mebbyso you boss all same this ranch?” Peppajee retorted sourly. +“Mebbyso Peacefu' tellum, him no likum.” + +Peaceful, thus drawn into the discussion, cleared his throat again. + +“Wel-l-l--WE 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 bad, Peppajee.” + +“Huh. Me no makum squaw-talk.” Peppajee laid down his knife, lifted a +corner of his blanket, and drew it slowly across his stern mouth. He +muttered a slighting sentence in Indian. + +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 away from the dogged silence of that blanketed figure at her +elbow. + +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 doubt--and +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 by the +arm. In the half--light she knew him then. It was Grant. + +“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 the porch, as usual, in a minute; so hurry.” + +“I hope it's something very important,” Evadna hinted ungraciously. +“Nothing else would excuse this high-handed proceeding.” + +When they had reached the great rock where the pond had its outlet, +and where was a rude seat hidden away in a clump of young willows just +across the bridge, he answered her. + +“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 +favor--I 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 +things--a savage among the rest--I don't like to feel such a brute as +to make war on a girl that seems to be getting it handed to her right +along.” + +He tardily lighted his cigarette and sat smoking beside her, the tiny +glow lighting his face briefly now and then. + +“When I was joshing you there before supper,” he went on, speaking low +that he might not be overheard--and ridiculed--from 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, +why--common 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 statement lessens my dislike of +you--” + +“Not at all.” Grant interrupted her. “Go right ahead and hate me, if you +feel that way. It won't matter to me--girls never did concern me much, +one way or the other. I never was susceptible to beauty, and that seems +to be a woman's trump card, always--” + +“Well, upon my word!” + +“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 that--my sympathies are always with the under dog, anyway, +and they're five to one. But that needn't mean that I'm--that 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 other--you from 'common humanity,' and I because I +promised Aunt Phoebe.” + +“We-e-l!--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 fight back--the +man who won't isn't a normal human being.” + +“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 different.” + +“Oh, it's different! I see. I have almost forgotten something I ought +to say, Mr. Imsen. I must thank you for--well, for defending me to that +Indian.” + +“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 account, in particular.” + +“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 into Peppajee.” + +“That's different.” She laughed shortly and left him, running swiftly +through the warm dusk to the murmur of voices at the house. + +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 moment up at the treetops swaying languidly just under the stars. + +“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 consider the matter very serious, after all. + + + +CHAPTER VI. THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL PLAYS GHOST + +At midnight, the Peaceful Hart ranch lay broodily quiet under its +rock-rimmed bluff. Down in the stable the saddle-horses were but +formless blots upon the rumpled bedding in their stalls--except +Huckleberry, the friendly little pinto with the white eyelashes and the +blue eyes, and the great, liver-colored 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 silent ranch. + +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 +half-heartedly at an early mosquito that was humming in his ear. He +reached out, and jogged the shoulder of him who snored. + +“Say, Gene, if you've got to sleep at the top of your voice, you better +drag your bed down into the orchard,” he growled. “Let up a little, +can't yuh?” + +“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 can't--” + +“Ah-h-EE-EE!” 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. + +“Bobcat,” whispered Clark, in a tone which convinced not even himself. + +“In a pig's ear,” flouted Gene, under his breath. He leaned far over and +poked his finger into a muffled form. “D'yuh hear that noise, Grant?” + +Grant sat up instantly. “What's the matter?” he demanded, rather +ill-naturedly, if the truth be told. + +“Did you hear anything--a funny noise, like--” + +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 nerve-wrackingly, and then wailed mournfully down to +silence. Afterward, while their ears were still strained to the sound, +the bobcat squalled an answer from among the rocks. + +“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 you going to do about it?” + +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 out upon a great lily--pad and +croaked dismally. + +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 deep-throated ARR-RR-UMPH 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 +freed himself stealthily from a blanketfold. + +“If that spook don't talk Indian when it's at home, I'm very much +mistaken,” he whispered to Clark, who was nearest. “You boys stay here.” + +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 shadow-flecked patch of +moonlight. Crouching low in the shade of a clump of bushes, Grant stole +toward the spot. + +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. Once more he heard the dismal cry, and fancied it held a +mocking note. + +“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 there--he 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 going quietly; what counted most was +speed. + +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 catch some +sound to guide him. + +“Well, anyhow, I didn't kill him,” he muttered uneasily as he crawled +through a fence into the orchard. “He's making a pretty swift get-away +for a fellow that's been shot.” + +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 a little. + +“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 raiment tangled up in a +barbed-wire fence.” + +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. They stared at each other, breathing hard from more than the +race they had run. + +“Well--I'll--be--” Grant began, in blank amazement. + +She wriggled her chin in his palm, trying to free herself from his +pitiless staring. Failing that, she began to sob angrily without any +tears in her wide eyes. + +“You--shot me, you brute!” she cried accusingly at last. “You--SHOT 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 stone-heap, and pulled her +down beside him, still holding her fast, as if he half believed her +capable of soaring away over the treetops, after all. + +“I guess I didn't murder you--from the chase you gave me. Did I hit you +at all?” + +“Yes, you did! You nearly broke my arm--and you might have killed me, +you big brute! Look what you did--and 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 hole right through Aunt Phoebe's sheet!” + she added, with tearful severity. + +He caught her arm, bent his head over it--and 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 lifted it again, and regarded the wound with +mournful interest. + +“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 wrapped up in a sheet,” he retorted +ungallantly. + +“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, anyway.” + +“Will you tell me what you DID do it for? Of all the silly tomfoolery--” + +An impish smile quite obliterated the Christmas-angel look for an +instant, then vanished, and left her a pretty, abused maiden who is +grieved at harsh treatment. + +“Well, I wanted to scare Gene,” she confessed. “I did, too. I just know +he's a cowardy-cat, because he's always trying to scare ME. It's Gene's +fault--he told me the grove is haunted. He said a long time ago, before +Uncle Hart settled here, a lot of Indians waylaid a wagon-train 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 around--only 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 satisfaction. + +“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 girls--you 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 choose--and 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 like a white man.” + +“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 up--the INDIAN?” + +She cast a swift, half-frightened 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 have to deal with--the Indian.” + +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 nature--why, 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 were sorry.” + +“I'm not in the habit of saying all I think and feel.” + +“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, you--you--well, you act like the savage you are! There, +now! It may not be nice to say it, but it's the truth.” + +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 Indian--because my mother was +a half-breed.” 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 eyes, and softened. + +“Oh, you're a girl, and you demand the usual amount of poor-pussy 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 well--and I'm not a kissing +young man, either, let me tell you.” + +“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. + +As the wires snapped into place, she halted and looked back at him. + +“Maybe I've been mean--but you're been meaner,” she summed up, in +self-justification. “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 to--tell. 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 fence-post, 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 jagged-rimmed bluff standing +boldly up against the star-flecked sky. Then he shook himself +impatiently, muttered something which had to do with a “doddering fool,” + and retraced his steps quickly through the orchard, the currant bushes, +and the strawberry patch, jumped the ditch, and so entered the grove and +returned to his blankets. + +“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 shoot--what was it? Did +you find out?” + +“It wasn't anything,” said Grant shortly, tugging at a boot. + +“Ah--there was, too! What was it you shot at?” Clark joined in the +argument from the blackness under the locust tree. + +“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 +foster-brother. “Something yelled like--” + +“You never heard a screech-owl before, did you, Gene?” Grant crept +between his blankets and snuggled down, as if his mind held nothing more +important than sleep. + +“Screech-owl my granny! You bumped into something you couldn't +handle--if 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 was it?” + +He waited a moment without getting a reply. + +“Well, keep your teeth shut down on it, then, darn yuh!” he growled. +“That's the Injun of it--I know YOU! Screech-owl--huh! You said when you +left it was an Indian--and 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 +you--and if there was one acting up around here, we knew blamed well it +was on your account for what happened to-day. 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 get--and 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 again. + +The result proved the sort of fellow he was. Clark shut up without even +trailing off into mumbling to himself, as was his habit when argument +brought him defeat. + + + +CHAPTER VII. MISS GEORGIE HOWARD, OPERATOR + +“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.” + +“WHAT--happened last night?” Evadna wore her Christmas-angel expression; +and her tone was the sweet, insipid tone of childlike innocence. + +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 +it. + +“There was a noise when the moon had just come up--didn'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 fight when he came back, and he's pulled out this morning--” + +“Do you mean to tell me--did you see it, really?” + +“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 winced +perceptibly. “What yuh jumping for? You didn't see anything, did you?” + +“No; but--was there REALLY something?” Evadna freed herself as +unobtrusively as possible, and looked at him with wide eyes. + +“You ask Clark. He'll tell you--maybe. Good Injun's scared clean off the +ranch--you 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 +it. They believe in spirits and signs and things.” + +Evadna turned thoughtful. “And didn't he tell you what he--that is, if +he found out--you said he went after it--” + +“He wouldn't say a blamed thing about it,” Gene complained sincerely. +“He said there wasn't anything--he told us it was a screech-owl.” + +“Oh!” Evadna gave a sigh of relief. “Well, I'm going to ask Clark what +it was--I'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 +there--without even your mother with you!” + +She smiled the credulous smile of ignorant innocence and pulled the gate +open. + +“Jack promised to take me up to Hartley to-day,” 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 perambulations entirely to the conventional +midnight hour.” + +Gene did not make any reply. Indeed, he seemed wholly absorbed in +staring after her and wondering just how much or how little of it she +meant. + +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 herself with the simple, unqualified +statement that she was glad of it. + +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 post-office +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 tolerance. + +“When you get ready to go home, you can come to the store,” he said +bluntly. “Huckleberry wouldn't stand here if you hog-tied him. Just +remember that if you ever ride up here alone--it might save you a walk +back. And say,” he added, with a return of his good-natured grin, “it +looks like you and Good Injun didn't get acquainted yesterday. I thought +I saw mum give him an introduction to you--but I guess I made a mistake. +When you come to the store, don't let me forget, and I'll do it myself.” + +“Oh, thank you, Jack--but it isn't necessary,” chirped Evadna, and left +him with the smile which he had come to regard with vague suspicion of +what it might hide of her real feelings. + +Two squaws sat cross-legged 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 +by Miss Georgie Howard, then in one of her daily periods of intense +boredom. + +“My, my, but you're an angel of deliverance--and 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 +interesting,” she added musingly. + +“Don't let me interrupt you,” Evadna began primly. “I only came for a +money order--Aunt Phoebe's sending for--” + +“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 mentally--only I've tagged you +long ago.” + +“I thought you were the express agent. Aunt Phoebe said--” + +“Nice, truthful Aunt Phoebe! I am, but I'm out--officially. I'm several +things, my dear; but, for the sake of my own dignity and self-respect, +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 agent. I admit it. But this +isn't one of the times.” + +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 way--I'm not anything official right now. +I'm a neighbor, and this is my parlor--you 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 the agent is out.” + +“Well, upon my word!” Evadna permitted herself that much emotional +relief. Then she leaned her head against the cherry-colored head-rest +tied to the chair with huge, cherry-colored bows, and took a deliberate +survey of the room. + +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 small-paned windows gave one sitting before the 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, +“Express Office: Hours, 8 A.M. to 6 P.M.” on a card above it. + +Under a small window opening upon the platform was another little table, +with indications of occasional ticket-selling 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 sewing-basket, 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 her--head three times, and her eyes were mirthful. “It's a game. +I made it a game. I had to, in self-defense. 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 yourself holding it down for longer than a week? +I've been here a month.” + +“I think,” Evadna ventured, “it must be fun.” + +“Oh, yes. It's fun--if 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 chair, “it will illustrate just how I manage my system.” + +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: + +“OUT. WILL BE BACK LATER.” + +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 box--the five pounds of chocolates which she had sent +for. + +“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 stand--and for Heaven's sake, gossip a little! Tell me all +about that bunch of nifty lads I see cavorting around the store +occasionally--and especially about the polysyllabic gentleman who seems +to hang out at the Peaceful Hart ranch. I'm terribly taken with him. +He--excuse 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 “parlor” breathing quickly. + +“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 they were saying--but I couldn't even guess.” + +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 sometimes--in self-defense. There are two or three fresh +young men along the line that can't seem to take a hint unless you knock +them in the head with it.” + +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 store--ah--” 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 failure--um--'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, would--or could--say that without studying it +first. It sounded awfully impromptu and easy--and yet he looks--well, +cowboyish. What sort of a young man is he?” + +“He's a perfectly horrid young man.” Evadna leaned to help herself to +more chocolates. “He--well, just to show you how horrid, he calls me +a--a Christmas angel! And--” + +“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 office--I'd know +his touch among a million--and 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 whimsically. “What's that card for, I wonder?” + +She threw the switch, rattled a reply, and then, as the sounder settled +down to a steady click-clickety-click-click, 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 weak-eyed, hollow-chested +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 receipt-book, 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 +would you rather stay here? I won't be more than two minutes.” + +She was gone five; and she returned with a preoccupied air which lasted +until she had disposed of three chocolates and was carefully choosing a +fourth. + +“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 again--and 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 human in the least like him. Did you? So +absolutely--ah--inscrutable, let us say.” + +“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 +me--told me, mind you--that he doesn't like women. He actually warned +me against thinking his politeness--if he ever is polite, which I +doubt--means 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 should be my revenge.” + +“I don't want any revenge. I simply want nothing to do with him. I don't +want to speak to him, even.” + +“He's awfully good--looking,” mused Miss Georgie. + +“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 love--and never give up; +unless the loved one disappointed him in some way; and then he'd be +strong enough to go his way and not whine about it. I do hate a whiner! +Don't you?” + +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 off--it'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 smoke-grimed window until a +movement warned her that he was through. + +“Very well--that is all,” she said, after she had counted the words +twice. “Oh--you want to wait for the repeat.” + +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 it down upon its form. + +“There--if 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 leering grin at Miss Georgie. + +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 her pompadour, and +finally laughed at her own uneasiness. + +“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 +toad--or snake, or--ugh! And what does he mean--sending twenty-word +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 +wish--only it's unprofessional to talk about it--but, 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 messages.” + +“Maybe he's a detective,” Evadna hazarded. + +“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. And--I 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 +anything more brutal than lick a postage stamp?” + +“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 say--but +I'd hate to swear to that. _I_ never could catch it when it looked +swept--and 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 commenced coming to him.” + +“Why don't you turn detective yourself and find out?” Plainly, Evadna +was secretly laughing at her perturbed interest in the matter. + +“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. And--couldn'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 thing--where 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 +fishing--but 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, there'd be two of us--” + +“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 with--that'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 suppose--sixteen is about due. Excuse me, chicken.” + +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 +fish-basket slung from one shoulder, a trout rod carefully wrapped in +its case in his hand, a box which looked suspiciously like a case of +some bottled joy at his feet, and a loose-lipped smile upon his face. + +“Howdy, Miss Georgie?” he called unctuously through the open door. + +Miss Georgie barely glanced at him from under her lashes, and her +shoulders indulged themselves in an almost imperceptible twitch. + +“How do you do, Mr. Baumberger?” she responded coolly, and very, very +gently pushed the door shut just as he had made up his mind to enter. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. THE AMIABLE ANGLER + +Baumberger--Johannes was the name he answered to when any of his family +called, though to the rest of the world he was simply Baumberger--was +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 tussle with that four-pounder he had lost last time. + +“And I don't go back till I get him--not if I stay here a week,” he +declared, with jocular savagery. “Took half my leader and my pet fly--I +got him with a peacock-bodied gray hackle that I revised to suit my own +notions--and, by the great immortal Jehosaphat, he looked like a whale +when he jumped up clear of the riffle, turned over, and--” His flabby, +white hand made a soaring movement to indicate the manner in which the +four-pounder had vanished. + +“Better take a day off and go with me, Pete,” he suggested, getting an +unwieldy-looking pipe from the pocket of his canvas fishing-coat, and +opening his eyes at a trout-fly 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 fatuous to one who has no sporting blood in his veins. + +“Last time I used that fly was when I was down here three weeks ago--the +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 +book--I must be getting absent-minded. 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 up--a lawyer +can't afford to grow absent-minded. He's liable to wake up some day and +find himself without his practice.” + +He got his fly-book 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 +frail-looking five inches of gut leader, and then returned the book +fondly to the basket. + +“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 of--ah--snake medicine,” + he hinted, chuckling so that the whole, deep chest of him vibrated. “No? +Well, you can let me have a horse, I suppose--that cow-backed sorrel +will do--he's gentle, I know. I think I'll go out and beg an invitation +from that Hart boy--never can remember those kids by name--Gene, is it, +or Jack?” + +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 after-thought, if Jack's +mother had company, or anything that would make his presence a burden. + +“Nobody's there--and, if there was, it wouldn't matter,” Jack assured +him carelessly. “Go on down, if you want to. It'll be all right with +mother.” + +“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 so--but it's a fact, just the same. She sure is a genius with the +frying-pan, my boy.” + +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 +stable. + +“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, Pete--and 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 days--maybe 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 grind--but 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 know--it's the +one I was talking to yuh about last time I was down. + +“W-ell--I reckon my means of conveyance is ready for me--so long, Peter, +till Sunday. See you at supper, boys.” + +He hooked a thumb under the shoulder-strap 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 of satisfaction with life which +sets a cat purring. + +Some time later, he appeared, in the same jovial mood, at the Hart +ranch, and found there the welcome which he had counted upon--the +welcome which all men received there upon demand. + +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 fishing-basket 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 loose-lipped +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 well-being. + + + +CHAPTER IX. PEPPAJEE JIM “HEAP SABES” + +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 too-familiar dog from him with a shove of moccasined foot, and stalked +away through the sagebrush. + +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 man-made 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 surface, once he sets himself heart and muscle to the task. + +With the deliberation of his race, Peppajee stood long minutes +motionless, gazing into the valley before he 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 dust-ridden 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 sage-roots, or patches of deep dust and sand beside the +wagon-road, his sharp, high-featured face set in the stony calm which +may hide a tumult of elemental passions beneath and give no sign. + +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 so was lost for that day. + +“Hello, Peppajee,” called Wally over his cigarette. “Just in time for +supper.” + +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 but his eyes. + +“Peppajee, this my friend, Mr. Baumberger. You heap sabe +Baumberger--come 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, had failed to find favor in +his eyes. + +“Huh!” grunted Peppajee non-commitally, and made no motion to +shake hands, thereby confirming Peaceful's suspicion. “Me heap sabe +Man-that-catchum-fish.” 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 Indian's attitude, which he attributed +to racial stupidity. + +Peppajee did not even indicate that he heard or, hearing, understood. + +“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 watchdogs--they'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 have some influence with the agent.” + +“I guess you needn't go to any trouble about it,” Peaceful returned +dryly. “I've had worse neighbors.” + +“Oh--if 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 time-worn joke had met with disfavor, even by the boys, +who could--and usually did--laugh 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 snow-white beard with his free hand, pushed the +pipe-stem between his teeth, and went on smoking. + +“I never liked the breed, any way you look at 'em,” Baumberger stated +calmly. + +“Say, you'll queer yourself good and plenty, if you keep on,” Wally +interrupted bluntly. “Peppajee's ears aren't plugged with cotton--are +they, Jim?” + +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 he were glad to escape from the steady, uncompromising stare of +the Indian. + +“Better come and eat, Peppajee,” Peaceful lingered upon the porch to +urge hospitably. “You no get mad. You come eat supper.” + +“No!” Peppajee jerked the word out with unmistakable finality. “No eat. +Bimeby mebbyso makum big talk yo'.” + +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 as pleased him best. + +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 two. + +“I talk yo'. Mebbyso no talk Man-with-big-belly.” He waited impassively. + +“All right, Jim.” Peaceful turned apologetically toward his guest. +“Something he wants to tell me, Baumberger; kinda private, I guess. I'll +be back in a minute, anyway.” + +“Now don't mind me at all,” Baumberger protested generously. “Go ahead +just as if I wasn't here--that'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 pipe. + +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 boys--all time my frien'. Me speakum all +time no lie, mebbyso.” + +“No,” Peaceful assented unhesitatingly, “you no tell lies, Peppajee. We +good friends, many years.” + +“Huh! Man-that-catchum-fish, him no yo' frien'. Shont-isham. All time +him speakum lies--tellum 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 time him likum steal yo' +ranch.” + +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 +sell--me 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 Man-that-coughs, tellum him ketchum ranch. +Much white man come, so--” He lifted one hand with thumb and fingers +outspread, made a downward gesture, and then raised three fingers. +“Catchum ranch.” + +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 signs +his exact meaning. + +Peppajee scowled, and shook his head stubbornly. “Me heap sabe. All +same, ketchum yo' ranch. Man-that-catchum-fish 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 odor of +smoke from Baumberger's pipe. + +“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 warning, and went back to talk politics with Baumberger. + + + +CHAPTER X. MIDNIGHT PROWLERS + +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 half-dugout, +half-board 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 fellow-men 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 spring-fed 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 stable-door, shook his head in mute +displeasure, and went quietly on. As he neared the silent house, the +faint creak of saddle-leather and the rattle of spur-chains 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 pond--the 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 laid--and 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 his eyes were not +used to playing him tricks. + +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 guarded challenge: + +“Who's that?” + +A figure detached itself without sound from the blot of darkness there, +and stood almost at his stirrup. + +“Yo' Good Injun--me likum for talk yo'.” + +Good Indian was conscious of a distinct disappointment, though he kept +it from his voice when he answered: + +“Oh, it's you, Peppajee. What you do here? Why you no sleepum yo' +wikiup?” + +Peppajee held up a slim, brown hand for silence, and afterward rested it +upon the saddle-fork. + +“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 +he led him back into the shadow of the rock. + +“Well, what's the row?” Good Indian asked impatiently, and curiously as +well. + +Peppajee spoke more hastily than was usual. “Me watchum +Man-that-catchum-fish. Him hee-eeap kay bueno. Me no sabe why him walk, +walk in night--me heap watchum.” + +“You mean Baumberger? He's all right. He comes down here to catchum many +fish--trout, up in the Malad, you sabe. Heap friend Peaceful. You no +likum?” + +“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 +stable--Pete stable--me walkum close--no makum noise. Me hear talk. +Stoppum--no can see--me 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--” + +“Baumberger?” suggested Grant. + +“Him. All same Baumberga, him talk Man-that-coughs. 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 thinkum +I lie--shont-isham!” + +“What more you do?” Good Indian, at least, did not laugh. + +“Me go camp. Me thinkum, thinkum all time. Dat man have bad heart. Kay +bueno. No can sleep--thinkum mebbyso do bad for Peaceful. Come ranch, +stop all time dark, all time heap watchum. Bimeby, mebbyso man--all same +yo' callum Baumberga--him 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 noise--kay 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 statue-like 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 ranch--the 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 the clanking +Mexican spurs from his heels, and touched Peppajee on the shoulder. + +“All right,” he murmured close to his ear, “we go see.” + +Without a word, Peppajee turned, and stole away toward the meadows, +keeping always in the shadow of rock or bush, silent-footed as a +prowling bobcat. Close behind him, not quite so silent because of his +riding-boots, 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 Evadna--and 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 blackness of the grove. + +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 the moon-bathed world around him. + +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. + +Peppajee grunted. “What for yo' no stoppum all same Peaceful?” + +Good Indian scorned a subterfuge, and spoke truly. “That girl, Evadna, +no likum me. All time mad me. So I no stoppum ranch, no more.” + +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 rim-rock which guarded the bluff. +“All same, yo' no go stoppum Hicks,” he commanded. “Yo' stoppum dis +ranch all time. Yo' all time watchum man--yo' 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 +Man-that-coughs. Me no sabe catchum ranch--all same, me watchum. Them +mans heap kay bueno. Yo' bet yo' life!” + +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 +positively that there went Peppajee. + +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 fishing-tackle +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 the grove. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XI. “YOU CAN'T PLAY WITH ME” + +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 appeared--which was not at all. + +What did interest him that morning was the changeful mood of Evadna; +though he kept his interest so well hidden that no one suspected it--not +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 rigorous discipline of averted +face and frigid tones. + +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 pounce--he 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 standing beside the road, waving a +flask. + +“It's the cream for your coffee,” she cried, going to meet Evadna. “You +can slip it into your jacket-pocket, can't you, honey? Huckleberry is so +steady--and 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 whip--a blow which would +not have perturbed a mosquito--when 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 attention--and that in +spite of the distinct shadow of her head and shoulders which lay at his +feet. + +“Oh--Grant,” she began perfunctorily, “I'm sorry to trouble you--but do +you happen to have an empty pocket?” + +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 pocket before he so much as glanced toward her. + +“I may have. Why?” He picked up the bridle-reins, caught the +saddle-horn, and thrust his toe into the stirrup. From under his +hat-brim he saw that she was pinching her under lip between her teeth, +and the sight raised his spirits considerably. + +“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. + +“I'll carry it--I'm more used to packing bottles,” he announced gravely. + +“Oh, but if you must carry it in your hand, I wouldn't dream of--” She +was holding fast the bottle, and trying to wear her Christmas-angel +look. + +Good Indian laid hold of the flask, and they stood there stubbornly +eying each other. + +“I thought you wanted me to carry it,” he said at last, pulling harder. + +“I merely asked if you had an empty pocket.” Evadna clung the tighter. + +“Now, what's the use--” + +“Just what I was thinking!” Evadna was so impolite as to interrupt him. + +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 in her eyes a sign of weakening, he followed up the advantage he had +gained. + +“Let go--because 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 set--which was not rapid, by any means. He watched her with +quick, sidelong glances, and wondered whether he would dare say what he +wanted to say--or at least a part of it. + +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 washed-out 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 on the same ranch, we might as well be friends. What do +you say?” + +For a time he thought she was not going to say anything. She was staring +at the dust-cloud 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 words. + +“You told me you didn't like me,” she reminded, looking at him briefly, +and afterward fumbling her reins. “You can't expect a girl--” + +“I suppose you don't remember coming up to me that first night, and +calling me names, and telling me how you hated me, and--and winding up +by pinching me?” he insinuated with hypocritical reproach, and felt of +his arm. “If you could see the mark--” he hinted shamelessly. + +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 minute,” she added, with virtuous solemnity. + +“But you're not killed, and I'm not in jail.” + +“And I haven't told a living soul about it--not even Aunt Phoebe,” + Evadna remarked, still painfully virtuous. “If I had--” + +“She'd have wondered, maybe, what you were doing away down there in +the middle of the night,” Good Indian finished. “I didn't tell a soul, +either, for that matter.” + +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 an honest impulse of +friendliness. + +“Well, I'm sure I'm willing to bury the tomahawk--er--that is, I mean--” + She blushed hotly at the slip, and stammered incoherently. + +“Never mind.” His eyes laughed at her confusion. “I'm not as bad as +all that; it doesn't hurt my feelings to have tomahawks mentioned in my +presence.” + +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 +much-desired 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 that he might face her squarely. + +“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 he repeated the question. + +“Do you mean that? We've been digging into each other pretty +industriously, and saying how we hate each other--but are you willing +to drop it and be friends? It's for you to say--and 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 it?” she evaded. + +“Am I to take it for granted you meant what you said?” He stuck +stubbornly to the main issue. “Girls seem to have a way of saying +things, whether they mean anything or not. Did you?” + +“Did I what?” She was wide-eyed innocence again. + +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 +person who goaded him further. He glanced at the girl sharply. + +“This thing has got to be settled right now, without any more fooling +or beating about the bush,” he said--and 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 settle--in that solemn +manner. I only know we're a mile behind the others, and Miss Georgie +will be wondering--” + +“You say I'm to settle it, the way I want it settled?” + +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 gazed +sternly into her frightened eyes. + +“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 or--hate 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 +right--you're perfectly horrid! You take everything for granted--” + +Good Indian laughed at her, a laugh of pure, elemental joy in life and +in love. + +“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 am--the 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. You--oh, I never saw such a--a +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 the outrage. + +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 to play a five-dollar +gold piece he had in his hand and quit. + +“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 me--they'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 conchos--you 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 pocket for a match. + +“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 straight--I did once, +and I never got over it, I guess. I was going to pinch down to ten--but +I didn't; I let her ride. And SHOT CRAPS!” + +He drew the match along the stamped saddle-skirt behind the cantle, +because that gave him a chance to steal a look behind him without being +caught in the act. Good, wide hat-brims 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 it--yet. 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. + +“What did you do then?” asked Gene. + +“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 craps--sixes, that +time--sent 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 craps--say, 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 have its place in the problem of +his life. + + + +CHAPTER XII. “THEM DAMN SNAKE” + +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 fly-book, 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 fishing-coat, +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 attention, and stayed him for a few minutes to watch. + +Loosely disreputable looked Lawyer Baumberger, from the snagged hole +in his hat-crown where a wisp of graying hair fluttered through, to the +toes of his ungainly, rubber-clad 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 pool. + +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 half-snarl, +half-involuntary contraction of muscles sympathetically tense. + +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 life--had Good Indian--and had found joy in +the sport. And here was he inwardly condemning a sportsman who stood +self-revealed, 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 +felt it nevertheless. + +“Brute!” he muttered aloud, his face eloquent of cold disgust. + +At that moment Baumberger drew the tired fish gently into the shallows, +swung him deftly upon the rocks, and laid hold of him greedily. + +“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 larger one of the little scales he carried inside his +basket. + +“Pound and four ounces,” he announced, and slid the fish into his +basket. He was the ordinary, good-natured, gross Baumberger now. He +reached for his pipe, placed it in his mouth, and held out a hand to +Good Indian for a match. + +“Say, young fella, have you got any stand-in with your noble red +brothers?” he asked, after he had sucked life into the charred tobacco. + +“Cousins twice or three times removed, you mean,” said Good Indian +coldly, too proud and too lately repelled to meet the man on friendly +ground. “Why do you ask?” + +Baumberger eyed him speculatively while he smoked, and chuckled to +himself. + +“One of 'em--never mind placing him on his own p'ticular limb of the +family tree--has 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 that--thought maybe he was hunting +or going fishing--but he's been sneakin' around behind me ever since. I +don't reckon he's after my scalp--not enough hair to pay--but I'd like +to know what the dickens he does mean.” + +“Nothing probably,” Good Indian told him shortly, his eyes nevertheless +searching the rocks for a sight of the watcher. + +“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 +sun-ridden 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 +head--looked to me like the surly buck that blew in to the ranch the +night I came; Jim something-or-other. By the great immortal Jehosaphat!” + he swore humorously, “I'd like to tie him up in his dirty blanket and +heave him into the river--only it would kill all the fish in the Malad.” + +Good Indian laughed. + +“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 one there.” + +“I'll go up and take a look,” Good Indian offered carelessly. + +“Well, I wish you would. I can't keep my mind on m' fishing--just +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 remembered to ask as he prepared for another cast into the +pool. + +“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 on down.” + +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 think. + +He climbed negligently, scattering loose rocks down the hill behind +him. He had no expectation of coming upon Peppajee--unless Peppajee +deliberately put himself in his way--and so there was no need of +caution. He stopped once, and stood long minutes with his head turned to +catch the faint sound of high-keyed laughter and talk which drifted +up to him. If he went higher, he thought, he might get a glimpse of +them--of her, to tell his thought honestly. Whereupon he forgot all +about finding and expostulating with Peppajee, and thought only a point +of the ridge which would give him a clear view downstream. + +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, looking for a betraying bit of color or dirty gray hat-crown. + +“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 depended upon reaching as soon +as possible the broader sweep of the Snake. + +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 hat-brim down over his right eye and +ear to shield them from the burn of the sun, and went picking his way +idly over to the place. + +“HUL-lo!” he greeted, in the manner of one who refuses to acknowledge +the seriousness of a situation which confronts him suddenly. “What's the +excitement?” + +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 hunting-knife +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 it--for 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 ankle-bone, and from +there drip-dropped 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. + +“Want me to suck it?” ventured Good Indian unenthusiastically, eying the +wound. + +“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 wound--a 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 hiding-place +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 considers that he has been hardly used. + +“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 heap walk,” he stated +simply. + +“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 fish--no more.” He waved his hand toward the Malad. +“Baumberger bueno--catchum fish--no more.” + +Peppajee got slowly and painfully upon his feet--rather, upon one foot. +When Good Indian held out a steadying arm, he accepted it, and leaned +rather heavily. + +“Yo' eyes sick,” said Peppajee, and grinned sardonically. “Yo' eyes +see all time Squaw-with-sun-hair. Fillum yo' eyes, yo' see notting. Yo' +catchum squaw, bimeby mebbyso see plenty mo'. Me no catchum sick eye. +Mebbyso me see heap plenty.” + +“What you see, you all time watchum Baumberger?” + +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 swayed languidly the smaller branches of the nearby trees. + +Only Donny was there, sitting disgruntled upon the most comfortable +rock he could find, sulking because the others had taken all the +fishing-tackle that was of any account, and had left him to make shift +with one bent, dulled hook, a lump of fat pork, and a dozen feet of +line. + +“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 snag lines and lose leaders +and hooks, and giggle alla squeal. Aw--DARN girls!” + +“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 snake-bite. +I'll be back before you get ready to go home.” + +“I'm ready to go home right now,” growled Donny, sinking his chin +between his two palms. “But I guess the walkin' ain't all taken up.” + +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 well-defined 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 Huckleberry, and so got Peppajee mounted and headed toward +camp. + +“You tell Jack I borrowed his saddle and Huckleberry,” he called out to +the drooping little figure on the rock. “But I'll get back before they +want to go home.” + +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 misunderstanding and fruitless speculation +upon the part of Evadna. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. CLOUD-SIGN VERSUS CUPID + +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 +sensation-seekers 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 placer-pits, 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, he spoke. + +“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 +snake-bitten foot. “Snake bite, make all time much hurt.” His eyes +turned, and dwelt sharply upon the face of Good Indian. + +“Yo' all time thinkum Squaw-with-sun-hair. 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 same rattlesnake sleepum in sun. Kay +bueno.” + +Good Indian jerked his mind back from delicious recollection of one +sweet, swift-passing minute, and half opened his lips for reply. But +he did not speak; he did not know what to say, and it is ill-spent +time--that 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 away to the west. + +“Las' night, sun go sleepum. Clouds come all same blanket, sun wrappum +in blanket. Cloud look heap mad--mebbyso make much storm. Bimeby much +mens come in cloud, stand so--and so--and 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 head +slowly, his leathery face set in deep, somber lines. + +“Much trouble come heap quick,” he said gravely, hitching his blanket +into place upon his shoulder. “Me no sabe--all same, heap trouble come. +Much mens, mebbyso much fight, much shootum--mebbyso kill. Peaceful Hart +him all time laugh me. All same, me sabe smoke sign, sabe cloud sign, +sabe--Baumberga. Heap ka-a-ay bueno!” + +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 before he strolled on to the house and to the +armchair upon the porch. + +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 wind-riven cloud +meant to him spirit-sent prophecies not to be ignored. + +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 minutes, or +three--perhaps the time might be stretched to five. + +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 industry--one shining black head bent over a +half-finished, beaded moccasin, another stitching a crude gown of +bright-flowered 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' walk--no thinkum all time squaw. Mebbyso yo' think for man-snake. +Mebbyso yo' watchum,” Peppajee said, as he swung slowly down from +Huckleberry's back. + +“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 fresh-cheeked and bright-eyed 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 thoughts and all his desire. + +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 green-and-white 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 said. + +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 looked full at her. + +Evadna stared stonily over him to where the water boiled fastest. He +might have been one of the rocks, for all the notice she took of him. + +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 over to her. + +“Aren't you feeling well?” he asked, with tender proprietorship in his +tone. + +“I'm feeling quite well, thank you,” returned Evadna frigidly, +neglecting to look at him. + +“What is the matter, then? Aren't you having a good time?” + +“I'm enjoying myself very much--except 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 edge--this time some distance from +where Evadna sat--and began throwing pebbles at the black nose of a +wave-washed 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 full-blooded youths strive against one another for +supremacy. They came to the point of making bets, at first extravagant +and then growing more and more genuinely in earnest, for we're gamblers +all, at heart. + +Miss Georgie burned a frying-panful 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 been blind and deaf she would not +have appeared more oblivious. + +Good Indian grew anxious, and then angry. The savage stirred within +him, and counseled immediate and complete mastery of her--his woman. +But there was the white man of him who said the thought was brutal 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, jeering 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, and the savage in him laughed and lay down again, knowing himself +the master. + +What he did was to throw away the burnt fish, clean the frying-pan, 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 +it exactly as he would have spoken if Jack, for instance, had upset the +sugar. + +He held up the broken-handled 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 did not know that he saw them, +though another did. + +He was taken wholly by surprise when Miss Georgie, walking past him +afterward on her way to an enticing pool, nipped his arm for attention +and murmured: + +“You're doing fine--only don't overdo it. She's had just about all she +can stand right now. Give her a chance to forgive you--and let her think +she came out ahead! Good luck!” Whereupon she finished whatever she +pretended to have been doing to her fishing-tackle, 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 nothing more than idle amusement. + +“I'd like nothing better than to get that four-pounder on my line,” she +added. “It would be the joke of the season--if a woman caught him.” + +“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 more--and 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 rocky +place. + +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 Evadna--once more perched sulkily +upon the rock. + +“Head still bad, chicken?” she inquired cheerfully. “Better stay here in +the shade--I 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 the Hart boys. + +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 back to the farther shelter of +the ledge. + +“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 +want more words? Tell me what it is that bothers 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 +you hadn't cared. You--you let me kiss you. And--” + +“And after that you--you rode off and left me--and you went away by +yourself, just as if--just 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 clear--which could scarcely +be expected, since he did not quite understand it himself--he at least +succeeded in lifting from her the weight of doubt and of depression. + +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 +quick, anyhow.” + +“And thorough,” grinned Jack. “I was thinking some of falling in love +with you myself, Vad. Soon as some of the shine wore off, and you got so +you acted like a real person.” + +“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 tones. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. THE CLAIM-JUMPERS + +“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 night--didn'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 blood-shot eyes, however, +rather gave the lie to his statement. “I'm going to make one more try, +'long about noon, for that big one--girls 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 slightly over the table while he fed. + +“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 dark--and I thought maybe it was Gene's ghost. That was before the +moon came up. Got any more biscuits, mum?” + +“My trap wasn't sprung behind the chicken-house,” said Donny. “I looked, +first thing.” + +“Dogs,” drawled Baumberger, his enunciation muffled by the food in his +mouth, “always bark. And cats fight on shed-roofs. Next door to where I +board there's a dog that goes on shift as regular as a policeman. Every +night at--” + +“Oh, Aunt Phoebe!” Evadna, crisp and cool in a summery dress of some +light-colored stuff, and looking more than ever like a Christmas angel +set a-flutter 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 and pointed the gun straight at me!” + +“Why, honey, that can't be--you 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 found sanctuary there. + +“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 speaking. + +“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 go--never +saw the hobo yet that wouldn't run from a dog.” He smiled leeringly up +at her, and reached for a second helping of honey. + +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 sympathy for +Evadna's fear, and he frowned in a baffled way. + +“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 thick row +of trees--or a garden, or anything else.” + +“He's got a row of stakes running clear across the patch,” Evadna +recalled suddenly. “Just like they do for a new street, or a railroad, +or something. And--” + +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 then Baumberger glanced casually +at Peaceful. + +“Sounds queer--must 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 +scared--Sick the dogs on him,” he advised the family collectively, +his manner changing to a blustering anxiety that her fright should be +avenged. + +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 coffee-pot and frying-pan and blankets. And there a line of +stakes across the strawberry patch.” + +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 gallantly upon +feminine timidity and the natural, protective instincts of men. + +Peaceful Hart may have heard half of what he said--but 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. + +The runner was Donny, and every freckle stood out distinctly upon his +face. + +“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' to wash gold. Good Injun--” + +“Oh!” screamed Evadna suddenly. “Don't let him--don'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 Injun knows one of 'em.” + +Peaceful Hart stood indecisively, and stared, one and gripping the back +of his chair. His lips were working so that his beard bristled about his +mouth. + +“They can't do nothing--the ranch belongs to me,” he said, his eyes +turning rather helplessly to Baumberger. “I've got my patent.” + +“Jumping our ranch!--for placer claims!” Phoebe stood up, leaning hard +upon the table with both hands. “And we've lived here ever since Clark +was a baby!” + +“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 serious--and if it is, why--I'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 jumping--our--ranch?” Phoebe's soft eyes +gleamed at him. She was pale, so that her face had a peculiar, ivory +tint. + +“Now, now!” Baumberger put out a puffy hand admonishingly. “Let's keep +cool--that'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 +his thumb and finger. + +“You're a lawyer, Mr. Baumberger,” Peaceful turned to him, still +helpless in his manner. “What's the best thing to be done?” + +“Don't--get--excited.” 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, and--order 'em +off. Calmly, calmly! No violence--no threats--just 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, after--say twenty-four hours' notice--why, we'll +proceed to serve an injunction.” He drew a match along the back of his +chair, and lighted his pipe. + +“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 hot-headed, 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 complicate the +case.” + +“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 ranch--and you can get them anywhere in Idaho, almost. And to come +right into our garden, in the right--and stake a placer claim!” Her +anger seemed beyond further utterance. “The idea!” she finished weakly. + +“Well--but 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 +evil thing, portending much trouble and black treachery. + +“That's where people always blunder in a thing like this. A little +cool-headedness goes farther than hard words or lead. And,” he added +cheeringly, “it may be a false alarm, remember. We won't borrow trouble. +We'll just make sure of our ground, first thing we do.” + +“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 lightning-scarred +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 claim-jumper 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 jerkily. + +“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 arm, so that the butt of it +caressed his right shoulder-joint. + +“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. + +“You go to the devil,” he advised chillingly. + +“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. They don't want--” + +Jack grinned, and hitched his gun into plainer view. “When we start in, +it won't be STICKS we're sending to His Nibs,” he observed placidly. +“We're just waiting for him to ante.” + +“This,” said Baumberger, a peculiar gleam coming into his leering, +puffy-lidded eyes, and a certain hardness creeping into his voice, “this +is a matter for your father and me to settle. It's just-a-bide-beyond +you youngsters. This is a civil case. Don't foolishly make it come under +the criminal code. But there!” His voice purred at them again. “You +won't. You're all too clear-headed and sensible.” + +“Oh, sure!” Wally gave his characteristic little snort. “We're only just +standing around to see how fast the cabbages grow!” + +Baumberger advanced boldly across the dead line. + +“Stanley, put down that gun, and explain your presence here and your +object,” he rumbled. “Let's get at this thing right end to. First, what +are you doing here?” + +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 half-closed 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 Evadna--for 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 more than his eyes. + +“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 corner--ap-prox'm'tley--close 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 top--and +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 trouble--but 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 chest--a broad, +muscular chest it was--and let his eyes wander deliberately over his +audience. + +“That there's where _I_ stand,” he stated, with arrogant self-assurance. +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. + +“That's what I aim to do,” Stanley told him imperturbably. + +“_I_ proved, over fifteen years ago, that there WASN'T,” Peaceful +drawled laconically, and sucked so hard upon his pipe that his cheeks +held deep hollows. + +Stanley grinned at him. “Sorry I can't let it go at that,” he said +ironically. “I reckon I'll have to do some washin' myself, though, +before I feel satisfied there ain't.” + +“Then you haven't panned out anything yet?” Phoebe caught him up. + +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 injunction--” + +“You can serve and be darned.” Stanley's grin returned, wider than +before. + +“As Mr. Hart's legal adviser,” Baumberger began, in the tone he employed +in the courtroom--a 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 twenty-four 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 HEL-ena.” Stanley evidently felt +impelled to adapt his vocabulary to feminine ears, for he glanced at +them deprecatingly and as if he wished them elsewhere. + +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 half-shut 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 quietly beside Evadna, his attitude almost that of +boredom. + +“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 added half +humorously, “as a test case. If he goes, they'll all go.” + +“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 hunk uh pork is kicking up a lot uh +dust, but he ain't GETTING anywhere!” + +“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, Grant--but +there's something fishy about it.” + +“Ex-actly.” Good Indian took one long step over the ditch, and went on +steadily. + +Wally, coming again alongside, turned his head, and regarded him +attentively. + +“Injun's on top,” he diagnosed sententiously after a minute. “Looks +like he's putting on a good, thick layer uh war-paint, too.” He waited +expectantly. “You might hand me the brush when you're through,” he +hinted grimly. “I might like to get out after some scalps myself.” + +“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 says--staked 'em out in the night and stuck up +their notices--and 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 +contemptuously. + +“I wish dad wasn't so--” began Wally moodily, and let it go at that. + +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've got to do it.” + +“We can run 'em off--maybe,” suggested Jack, his fighting instincts +steadied by the vivid memory of four rifles held by four men, who looked +thoroughly capable of using them. + +“This isn't a case of apple-stealing,” Good Indian quelled sharply, and +got his rope from his saddle with the manner of a man who has definitely +made up his mind. + +“What CAN we do, then?” Wally demanded impatiently. + +“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 to-day than if you killed off the +whole bunch.” + +He came back in a few minutes with his horse, and found the two still +moodily discussing the thing. He glanced at them casually, and went +about the business of saddling. + +“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. + + + +CHAPTER XV. SQUAW-TALK-FAR-OFF HEAP SMART + +Good Indian spoke briefly with the good-looking 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 +smilingly pointed out to him. + +“Howdy, Peppajee? How you foot?” he asked, when his unaccustomed eyes +discerned the old fellow lying back against the farther wall. + +“Huh! Him heap sick all time.” Having his injury thus brought afresh +to his notice, Peppajee reached down with his hands, and moved the foot +carefully to a new position. + +“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, blankets--stop +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 men--in +court. You sabe. Ask Great Father to tell those men they go away, no +wash gold on ranch.” He waited. + +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 not +speak quickly. + +“Las' night--mebbyso 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 of--a 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. Mebbyso +yo' thinkum fight, no sabe how yo' fight.” + +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 Indian--he was also a +man. + +“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' no +sleepum mo'. All time yo' watchum.” + +“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 ranch. You hear talk, mebbyso you tell me now.” + +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 Squaw-talk-far-off,” he commanded. “All time makum +talk--talk--” 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 Man-that-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 squaw. All +time glad for talkum yo'. Yo' go.” + +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 the affair. + +“Much talkum--no can hear. All time them damn' Baumberga shut door--no +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 foot--no 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 Squaw-talk-far-off. 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 her--or 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 shy-eyed 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 man-mind +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 +own. As for Miss Georgie Howard-- + +“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 horse, was particularly +foolish sometimes. + +With that in his mind, he mounted--and turned Keno's head toward +Hartley. The distance was not great--little more than half a mile--but +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 +were not quite certain of his own mind, or of his welcome. + +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 +unapproachableness. + +“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 help. + +“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 red-and-white candy for Peppajee Jim next time I see +him.” Miss Georgie laughed--but 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 yesterday that you had found one!” + +“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. + +So Good Indian told her. + +“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 done--unless you had kicked old Baumberger into the Snake. He's the +god in this machine. I'd swear to that.” + +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 trust implicitly. + +“You're right as far as I'm concerned,” he owned, with his queer, +inscrutable smile. “I think you're also right about him. What makes you +think so, anyway?” + +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 he--died, I didn't know enough to go +on and be a lawyer myself, so I took to this.” She waved her hand +impatiently toward the telegraph instrument. + +“So it's like this: Eight men can take placer claims--can hold them, you +know--for 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 choose--or at +least get together--those 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 ground, aren't they?” + +“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 +might give me something definite to go on. He couldn't, though.” + +“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 person--I don't believe Baumberger can do +that all himself legally. I've got some of daddy's law-books 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. “Think--think HARD, what's best to do!” + +“The only thing I can think of,” he scowled, “is to kill that--” + +“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 +rough-on-rats in his dinner, but I intend to refrain from doing as I'd +like, and stick to what's best.” + +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 +been--they'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 course. All this country +practically can show colors, but pay dirt? No!” + +“Look out,” she advised him slowly, “that pay dirt doesn't grow over +night! Sabe?” + +Good Indian's eyes spoke admiration of her shrewdness. + +“I must be getting stupid, not to have thought of that,” he said. + +“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 going to use the laws himself, and it's with +the law we've got to fight him.” + +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 legible. + +“Betraying professional secrets, but I don't care,” she exclaimed, +turning swiftly toward him. “Listen to this: + +“'How's fishing? Landed the big one yet? Ready for fry?”' + +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 yesterday--with fish for Pete, he SAID, and of course he +really did have some--and sent a wire to Shoshone. I found it on file +when I came back. That was perfectly innocent, too. It was: + +“'Expect to land big one to-night. Plenty of small fry. Smooth trail.' + +“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! You won't mind waiting here?” + +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 to-day, and he +was a bit startled at what he was finding her to be. + +“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 him--he was sitting in the beribboned rocker +dedicated to friendly callers, and had the rug badly rumpled with his +spurs, which he had forgotten to remove--and 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 of chocolates from going bottom +up on the floor. + +“Like candy? Help yourself, if you do,” she said, and tucked a piece +into her mouth absent-mindedly before she laid the leather-bound book +open on the table. “Now, we'll see what information Mr. Copp can give +us. He's a high authority--General Land Office Commissioner, if you +please. He's a few years old--several years old, for that matter--but +I don't think he's out of date; I believe what he says still goes. +M-m-m!-'Liens on Mines'--'Clause Inserted in Patents'--'Affidavits Taken +Without Notice to Opposing'--oh, it must be here--it's GOT to be here!” + +She was running a somewhat sticky forefinger slowly down the index +pages. “It isn't alphabetically arranged, which I consider sloppy of Mr. +Copp. Ah-h! '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 +heads over it, though Miss Georgie read aloud. + +“Oh, it's a letter--but it's a decision, and as such has weight. U-m! + +“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 respectfully,” + +“'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 patent--Baumberger 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 that--IS 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 heavy brackets, wetting the lead on her tongue for emphasis. + +“'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 together over the sentiment conveyed therein. + +“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: + +“'I have to state that if eight bona-fide locaters' + +(“Whether they're that remains to be proven, Mr. Baumberger!”) + +'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 faith--those 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 as they did so. + +“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 +land--and 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 error--oh, as +Jenny Wren says in--in--” + +“'Our Mutual Friend?'” Good Indian suggested unexpectedly. + +“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 it--so 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 laws--and 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 tap-tap of feet on the platform, and Evadna appeared in the +half-open doorway. + +“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 +riding-skirt, 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 he made himself sound apologetic. + +“Oh--about an hour ago, I think,” Evadna drawled sweetly--the sweet +tones which always mean trouble, when employed by a woman. + +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 it--when you go.” + +“I'm going now, if you're ready,” he told her shortly, and reached for +his hat. + +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. + +“Oh--if you're really going,” she drawled, and followed him outside. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. “DON'T GET EXCITED!” + +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 +rocking-chair, 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 +resents humiliation more keenly than a direct injury. + +As to Evadna, her atmosphere was that of conscious and magnanimous +superiority to any feeling so humanly petty as jealousy--which 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 lunch--dinner, +I mean--and she's so upset over those horrible men planted in the +orchard--did 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. +Good-by--come down whenever you can, won't you?” She smiled, and she +waved a hand, and she held up her riding-skirt daintily as she turned +away. “You didn't say goodby to Georgie,” she reminded Grant, still +making use of the chirpy tone. “I hope I am not in any way responsible.” + +“I don't see how you could be,” said Good Indian calmly; and that, for +some reason, seemed to intensify the atmosphere with which Evadna chose +to surround herself. + +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 +package--a 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 Hartley and the sagebrush waste +surrounding it. + +“You seem to be in a good deal of a hurry,” Good Indian observed. + +“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 sarcasm--which came rapidly out from behind the veil and grew +sharp and bitter--before 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 pretext whatsoever. + +Baumberger, in his shirt-sleeves and smoking his big pipe, lounged up +from the pasture gate where he had been indolently rubbing the nose of a +buckskin two-year-old 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 match for his answer. + +“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 bridle-reins, and started for the +stable. Baumberger happened to be in the way, and he backed again, more +hastily than before, to avoid being run over. + +“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 that I was so small I couldn't be seen +with the naked eye!” + +“You're so small in my estimation that a molecule would look like a +hay-stack alongside you!” Good Indian lifted the skirt of Evadna's +side-saddle, 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 none--in 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 +yellow-haired 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. + +“We-e-ell, 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 forenoon--maybe I've +kinda got the habit.” + +“Only you're pouring it on a fire this time.” + +“That dangerous, yuh mean?” + +“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 uncouth. + +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 purpose--because 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 himself. + +“What d'yuh mean by me pouring oil on fire!” Baumberger urged +banteringly. “Sounds like the hero talking to the villain in one of +these here save-him-he's-my-sweetheart plays.” + +“You go to the devil,” said Good Indian shortly. + +“Don't repeat yourself, m' son; it's a sign uh failing powers. You said +that to me this morning, remember? And--don't--get--excited!” His right +arm raised slightly when he said that, as if he expected a blow for his +answer. + +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 t'-day. I gotta WATCH him.” + +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 with Evadna--if it was +only to continue their quarrel. + +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 affairs down in the orchard. + +Evadna, it is true, strolled rather self-consciously 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 much-abused +cushion under his head and his hat tilted over his face, so that he +could see Baumberger's face without the scrutiny attracting notice. + +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 odds--cases +for the most part similar to this claim-jumping business. + +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 leaf-shadows on the ground. + +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 arm, and gave it a little, reassuring squeeze. + +“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 consciously--“you didn't +think I was going to--to fall dead in love--” + +“Didn't I?” Phoebe laughed at him openly. “I'd have been more surprised +if you hadn't. Why, my grief! I know enough about human nature, I hope, +to expect--” + +“Churning?” The voice of Baumberger purred down to them. There he stood +bulkily at the top of the steps, good-naturedly regarding them. “Mr. +Hart and I are goin' to take a ride up to the station--gotta 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 +Indian, and passed him over as being of no consequence. + +“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 all--Oh, +all right.” He had caught another shake of the head. + +“We may be gone till supper-time,” 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 +boys--they'll do as you say.” He leered at her ingratiatingly, shot a +keen, questioning look at Good Indian, and went his lumbering way. + +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 spring-house; 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; I want to talk with you--if I can +without having the whole of Idaho listening.” + +“Oh, Grant--I 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 something--well, 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, too--seems like I'd go all to pieces if I can't do SOMETHING!” + She sighed, and tried to cover the sigh with a laugh--which was not, +however, a great success. “I wish I could be as cool-headed as Thomas,” + she said, with a tinge of petulance. “It don't seem to worry him none!” + +“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 boot-toe +thoughtfully upon the bottom step, and glancing up now and then as a +precaution against being overheard. + +“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 there now? Does anybody know?” + +“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 so--CALM!” + +“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 Hart--will 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, and--a 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 H-A-ATE 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 and +inconsiderate and a brute. + +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 anyone else could do so. +And the things she had said! + +But here she was, nevertheless, laughing at him and blushing adorably +because he still held her fast, and making the blood of him race most +unreasonably. + +“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're--well, 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 unexpectedly--really, 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 up--and, 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 to--to Hartley.” She +put her arms around her aunt's neck. “You aren't angry, are you, +Aunt Phoebe?” she coaxed. “You--you know you said you wanted me to be +par-TIC-ularly nice to Grant!” + +“Great grief, child! You needn't choke me to death. Of course I'm not +angry.” But Phoebe's eyes did not brighten. + +“You look angry,” Evadna pouted, and kissed her placatingly. + +“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 +thinking some of the home I'm likely to lose.” + +Evadna drew back, and made a movement to go. + +“Oh, I'm sorry I interrupted you then, Aunt Phoebe. I suppose you and +Grant were busy discussing those men in the orchard--” + +“Don't be silly, child. You aren't interrupting anybody, and there's no +call for you to run off like that. We aren't talking secrets that I know +of.” + +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 hand. + +“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 them left strictly alone. The boys had better keep away, though.” + +“Are you going down in the orchard?” Evadna rounded her unbelievably +blue eyes at him. “Then I'm going along.” + +“You'll do nothing of the kind, little Miss Muffit,” he declared from +the top step. + +“Why not?” + +“I might want to do some swearing.” He grinned down at her, and started +off. + +“Now, Grant, don't you do anything rash!” Phoebe called after him +sharply. + +“'Don't--get--excited!'” he retorted, mimicking Baumberger. + +“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 +orchard--and to the stable as well, though that view did not interest +her particularly at first. It was pure accident that made her witness +what took place at the gate. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. A LITTLE TARGET-PRACTICE + +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 held out a yellowish envelope. + +“Ketchum Squaw-talk-far-off,” he explained gutturally. + +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 +telegraph form: + +“Come up as soon as you possibly can. I've something to tell you.” + +That was what she had written. He read it twice before he looked up. + +“What time you ketchum this?” he asked, tapping the message with his +finger. + +“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. “Ketchum one dolla, mebbyso pikeway quick. No stoppum,” + he said virtuously. + +“You see Peaceful in Hartley?” Good Indian asked the question from an +idle impulse; in reality, he was wondering what it was that Miss Georgie +had to tell him. + +“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 +day--perhaps 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 started toward the orchard, as he had +at first intended. + +“Mebbyso ketchum one dolla, yo',” hinted Charlie, the buck. + +But Good Indian went on without paying any attention to him. At the road +he met Jack and Wally, just returning from the orchard. + +“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 anything--not even when +you cuss 'em. Wally and I got black in the face trying to make them come +alive. Baumberger got back yet? Wally and I have got a scheme--” + +“He and your dad took the train for Shoshone. Say, does anyone know what +that bunch over in the meadow is up to?” Good Indian leaned his back +against a tree, and eyed the two morosely. + +“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 dirt--they 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 anything.” + +“I'm going to break out pretty darned sudden,” Jack observed calmly. +“I feel it coming on.” He smiled, but there was a look of steel in his +eyes. + +Good Indian glanced at him sharply. + +“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 it--or if I did--” He lifted his +shoulders expressively. + +“So,” he went on, after a minute of bitter thinking, “I want you to keep +out of this. You know how your mother would feel--You don't want to get +foolish. You can keep an eye on them--to-night 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, +why--I'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 respect--we +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 somewhere.” + +“I notice you're packing yours, large as life,” Jack pointed out. “Maybe +you're just wearing it for an ornament, though.” + +“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 sort--and he knew that, when he did make a move, he at +least ought to know why he did it. + +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 again--and +while he was not a man who must have everything put into words, he had +found comfort and a certain clarity of thought in talking with her. + +“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 read +it. + +“I didn't think you'd want to ride through all that dust and heat again +to-day,” he called back. “You're better off in the shade.” + +“Going to call on 'Squaw-talk-far-off'--AGAIN?” She was still laughing, +with something else beneath the laugh. + +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 good-by--with a hasty kiss, +perhaps, from the saddle--as a lover should have done. + +He was not used to love-making. For him, it was settled that they loved +each other, and would marry some day--he 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 at +ease. + +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 hand to further shield her face. + +“Oh, the whole place is like a GRAVEYARD,” she complained. “Nobody will +talk, or do anything but just wander around! I just can't STAND it!” + Which was not frank of her. + +“It's too hot to do much of anything,” he said apologetically. “We might +take a ride, if you don't mind the heat.” + +“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 claim-jumpers. You +seem to be in just about the proper frame uh mind to murder the whole +bunch. Fly at it!” + +“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 +to-day. 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 a brute. + +“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, +saw her there, huddled upon the bed. + +In the spring-house 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 Charlie--and the road to his favor must be paved with gifts. + +“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 coffee-pot. And Jack was the mild one of +the family. + +By the time he had succeeded in puncturing recklessly the frying-pan, +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 breath. + +“Got to do something to pass away the time,” Jack grinned, bringing his +front sight once more to bear upon the coffee--pot, 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 +frying-pan. And I wouldn't--hurt--you--for--anything!” He had just +reloaded, so that his bullets saw him to the end of the sentence. + +Stanley watched his coffee-pot 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 this--and you'll be packing your +blanket on your back and looking for work before snow flies,” was his +way of summing up. + +Still, he did not shoot. + +It was like throwing pebbles at the bowlder in the Malad, the day +before. + +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 claim-jumpers 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 out-of-the-way shelves, while +Phoebe expostulated in the immediate background. + +“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 milk-house, 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 that they were on +their way to a dance, so eager they were. + +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 +claim-jumping, and to punctuate their remarks with leaden periods +planted neatly and with precision in the immediate vicinity of one of +the four. + +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 taunting laughter, within range of +those rises, and they told Donny so. + +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 +Donny retreated in great indignation to the house. + +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 returned unexpectedly with the shotgun and an +enthusiasm for real bloodshed. + +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 dusk and Good Indian's opportune arrival prevented serious +trouble. + +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 about Saunders. + +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, according to Pete Hamilton, was sudden +death of a hemorrhage. + +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 +gone--because 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 him, anyway, Mr. Imsen.” + +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 rim-rock above +the ranch, Good Indian had heard the shooting, though the trees hid from +his sight what was taking place, and he had given over his search for +Saunders and made haste to reach home. + +He might have gone straight down the bluff afoot, through a rift in +the rim-rock where it was possible to climb down into the fissure and +squeeze out through a narrow opening to the bowlder-piled 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 fellows--which 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 good-night 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 ill-used. He would have been distressed +if he could have known how she cried herself to sleep but, manlike, he +would also have been puzzled. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. A SHOT FROM THE RIM-ROCK + +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 chicken-house. 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 chicken-house, probed with his knife-blade 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 +gun-sound, and he also saw a puff of blue smoke rise up on the rim-rock +above him. He marked the place instinctively with his eyes, and went on +to the stable, stepping rather more quickly than was his habit. + +Inside, he sat down upon the oats-box, 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, +while they were climbing that bluff. + +Even if one succeeded in reaching the foot of the rim-rock, there was +a forty-foot 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 enough--if 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 mile-long 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 +non-combatant, guiltless of even firing a single shot since the trouble +began? + +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 whole-heartedly 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 +unpleasantness in their immediate past. + +“Where you ketchum?” he asked, coming a bit closer. + +“In the side of the chicken-house.” Good Indian's tone was laconic. + +Wally reached out, and took the bullet from him that he might juggle it +curiously in his own fingers. “I don't think!” he scouted. + +“There's another one there to match this,” Good Indian stated calmly, +“and if I should walk over there after it, I'll gamble there'd be more.” + +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 of the other. + +“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 smile. + +“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 lasted!” + +“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 soon see if they're all on their +little patch of soil. Let's go take a look.” + +They went out guardedly, their eyes upon the rim-rock. 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 +stable-door to the corral; and that, Jack said afterward, didn't take +all day. + +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 thing--yet.” + +“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 rim-rock, 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. + +“Ah, go ON!” bawled Wally, his nerves all on edge. + +Jack dug his heel into the dust, blew the ashes from his cigarette, and +went on slowly to the gate, passed through, and stood well back, out of +sight under the trees, to watch. + +Wally snorted disdain of any proceeding so spectacular, but he was as he +was made, and he could not keep his dare-devil 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 knew they had been holding +their breath. + +“Well--here 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 realistic--for +a dream.” His eyes searched involuntarily the rim-rock 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 to get back at us.” + +“They've picked a dandy place,” Good Indian observed. “I think maybe it +would be a good idea to hold that fort ourselves. We should have thought +of that; only I never thought--” + +Phoebe, heavy-eyed 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 again. “And I never done a thing to +him!” he declared virtuously. + +Phoebe set down the coffee-pot with an air of decision. + +“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 thinks--I don't know as ho's got anything to say about +it--it's what _I_ think. I know I'm only a woman, and you all consider +yourselves men, whether you are or not, and it's beneath your dignity, +maybe, to listen to your mother. + +“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 knot-hole 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 life-and-death 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 on--we'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 row of faces bent over their plates. + +“Oh, you can laugh--it'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 +to-day--laying behind a currant bush and shooting COFFEE-POTS!--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 times--I 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 gun-fight is kinda +sickening to a person that's seen the real thing. + +“'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's-play-Injun +business going on around this ranch. Why, I'd lead you down there by the +ear, every mother's son of you, and tell that man Stanley to SPANK you!” + +“Mum can whip her weight in wildcats any old time,” Wally announced +after a heavy silence, and glared aggressively from one foolish-looking +face to another. + +As was frequently the case, the wave of Phoebe's wrath ebbed harmlessly +away in laughter as the humorous aspect of her tirade was brought to her +attention. + +“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 someone. When your father gets back, we'll see what's to be +done.” + +“All right, Mum. We won't look toward the garden to-day,” Wally promised +largely, and held out his cup to her to be refilled. “You can keep my +gun, if you want to make dead sure.” + +“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 window--at 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 drawn-work, and was drawing +intricate little diagrams of certain patterns with her fork upon the +tablecloth. + +She looked up, and gave him a careless greeting, and went back to +discussing certain “wheels” in the corner of an imaginary lunch-cloth +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 drawings, and glanced at him +with her most exaggerated Christmas-angel look. + +“Don't interrupt, please,” she said mincingly. “This is IMPORTANT. And,” + she troubled to explain, “I'm really in a hurry, because I'm going to +help Aunt Phoebe make strawberry jam.” + +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 breast-pocket. + +“WE can't raise anybody,” Wally told him disgustedly, “and I've made +three round trips myself. I'm going to quit fooling around, and go to +work.” + +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 visible means of discovering what +the unknown quantities could possibly be. + +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 rim-rock 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 the trail ahead of him, sending up a little spurt +of fine sand. + +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 rowels, and galloped around the Point. + +There, for the time being, he was safe. Unless the shooter upon the +rim-rock 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 of the time from the receding +wall of rock by huge bowlders and giant sage. + +Grant knew that he was safe from that quarter, and was wondering whether +he ought to ride up along the top of the bluff before going to Hartley, +as he had intended. + +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 softly: + +“Yo' no shoot--no shoot--me 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 four-inch 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 animal. Yet she +did not seem to be afraid of Good Indian. + +“I sorry I scare yo' horse,” she said hesitatingly, speaking better +English than before. “I heap hurry to get here. I speak with yo'.” + +“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 good-looking young +squaw he had seen at the Indian camp. “What's your name?” he asked, +remembering suddenly that he had never heard it. + +“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 shootum.” + +“I know--I'm going to ride around that way and round him up.” + Unconsciously his manner had the arrogance of strength and power to do +as he wished, which belongs to healthy young males. + +“N-o, no-o!” She drew a sharp breath “o' no good there! Dim shoot yo'. +Yo' no go! Ah-h--I 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 prime. + +“I want yo'--” she hesitated; “I want yo'--be heap careful. I want yo' +no ride close by hill. Ride far out!” She made a sweeping gesture toward +the valley. “All time I watch.” + +He was staring at her in a puzzled way. She was handsome, after her +wild, half-civilized type, and her anxiety for his welfare touched him +and besought his interest. + +“Indians go far down--” She swept her arm down the narrowing river +valley. “Catch fish. Peppajee stay--no 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 gathered--though 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 aim, and shoot--and she had +known that he was shooting at Good Indian. + +When he asked her the second time what was her errand up there--whether +she was following the man, or had suspected that he would be there--she +shook her head vaguely and took refuge behind the stolidity of her race. + +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 hunting him out, in all that rough +jumble. + +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 had seen in her eyes. + +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 Hartley and his discussion of late +events with Miss Georgie. + +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 lily-pads within ten feet of them. It was not so long +ago, that evening. The time that had passed since might be reckoned +easily in hours, but to Good Indian it seemed a month, at the very +least. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. EVADNA GOES CALLING + +“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 +furtive-eyed individuals answering your description bought round-trip +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 stunt--and if the boys have begun to devil them any, the chances +are good that they'd take turns at it, anyway. They'd leave someone +always on the ground, that's a cinch. + +“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 bed--so Pete told +me this morning. And most of the Indians have pulled out--squaws, dogs, +papooses, and all--on 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 four-thirty--five. + +“And that's all I can tell you, Mr. Imsen,” she finished crisply, and +took up a novel with a significance which not even the dullest man could +have ignored. + +Good Indian stared, flushed hotly, and made for the door. + +“Thank you for the information. I'm afraid this has been a lot of bother +for you,” he said stiffly, gave her a ceremonious little bow, and went +his way stiff-necked and frowning. + +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 +wide-open door. + +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 pump-house 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 for the grimy +attendant. + +“What a fool--what 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 +magazines he could find, including--especially including--the alleged +“funny” ones. + +“You certainly--are--the prize--fool!” 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 garden-party chapter much as +she used to study her multiplication table when she was ten and hated +arithmetic. + +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 bareheaded in the sun to watch the +unloading. + +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, sage-covered 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 gayety--which her mouth somehow +failed to meet halfway in mirth--upon 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 tie-rope into what looked like a knot, +and step lightly upon the platform. She had kept her head down--had Miss +Georgie--until 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 the ranch is perfectly horrid,” Evadna complained +pathetically, leaning back in the rocking-chair. “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 +and--oh, 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 house--and even then I couldn't help hearing most of it. + +“And to-day 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 +cross--CROSS, 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 +now--she just goes around with tears running down into the flannel +around her face till I could SHAKE her!” Evadna laughed--a self-pitying +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 brand-new sweetheart--” Miss Georgie reproved +quizzically, and reached for the inevitable candy box. + +“A lot of good that does, when he's never there!” flashed Evadna, +unintentionally revealing her real grievance. “He just eats and +goes--and 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 rather than say; to +Miss Georgie, of all people. + +“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 and picks me up again--” + +“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--” + +“Well, upon my word! Just as if I wanted--” + +“You really ought to help him by being kind and showing a little +sympathy, instead--” + +“It appears that the supply of sympathy--” + +“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 problem--and carries his +life in his hand--” + +“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 once, can he? Now, let's be +sensible, chicken. Grant--” + +“Oh--h!” There was a peculiar, sliding inflection upon that word, which +made Miss Georgie's hand shut into a fist. + +“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--” + +“I know all that.” Evadna interrupted without apology. + +“Well, of course, if you DO--then 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 certain sense responsible--” + +“Yes, I know. He thinks he should have been watching somebody or +something instead of--of 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 there was no look of an angel in her face. + +Miss Georgie pressed her lips together tightly for a minute. When she +spoke, she was cheerfully impersonal as to tone and manner. + +“Chicken, you're a little goose. The man is simply crazy about you, and +harassed to death with this ranch business. Once that's settled--well, +you'll see what sort of a lover he can be!” + +“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 back in the chair and +beginning to rock again. + +“It's a nasty, underhand business from start to finish,” said Miss +Georgie, ignoring the remark. “It has upset everybody--me 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 with old +Baumberger--and if ever there was a sly old mole of a man, he's one. + +“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, why--he'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 move--but 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 measuring-stick. She began to suspect that Evadna +was, after all, an extremely self-centered 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 a--a '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 white-ribboner, or +some other kind of a good-ribboner.” Miss Georgie hated herself for +sliding into sheer flippancy, but she preferred that extreme to the +other, and she could not hold her ground just then at the “happy +medium.” + +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 for--besides yourself?” flared Miss +Georgie, quite humanly exasperated. “There, chicken--the heat always +turns me snappy,” she repented instantly. “Please pinch me.” She held +out a beautiful, tapering forearm, and smiled. + +“I'm the snappy one,” said Evadna, but she did not smile as she began +drawing on her gauntlets slowly and deliberately. + +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 +section-men 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 +worldly-wise to follow the trail past the store, where someone might +rush out and grab him before he could dodge away. He was a wise little +pinto--Huckleberry. + +“And now, I suppose I'll have the pleasure of walking home,” grumbled +Evadna, standing upon the platform and gazing, with much self-pity, +after her runaway. + +“It's noon--stay 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 riding-skirt, +and went slowly down the steps. + +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 whatever. + +“Little idiot!” gritted Miss Georgie--and this time she was not speaking +of herself. + + + +CHAPTER XX. MISS GEORGIE ALSO MAKES A CALL + +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 station door with the furtive air +which Miss Georgie always inwardly resented. + +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 finger-nails--she 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 Saunders was almost +pitifully eager to be agreeable. + +“If it didn't sound cruel, this weather,” said Miss Georgie lightly, +still looking at him--or, 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 day.” + +“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 had ugly, discolored teeth into +the bargain. + +“I like to lay in the hay,” he added lifelessly. “I guess I'll take my +bed up there; that lean-to 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 Shoshone, merely as a hint to Saunders to take himself away. + +“Ain't been anything for me?” he asked, still lingering. + +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 +barrow-load of boxes, she switched off the current abruptly, and went +over to the window to watch him. + +“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 everlasting undoing. It's +better than cipher--for I don't talk in my sleep.” + +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 emphasis, and wired her chief for leave +of absence until seven. + +“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, nevertheless, +to self-reliant souls like the Hartley operator. + +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 +treasure-trove of flabby meat, and while he was dangling it over the +barrel until the superfluous brine dripped away, she asked him for a +horse. + +“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 and waited for his purchases. + +“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 getting along. Exciting times down +there, from all accounts.” + +“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 suppose. I can saddle better +than Saunders.” + +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 safe-keeping, +repinned her white sailor hat so that the hot wind which blew should not +take it off her head, and went cheerfully away to the stable. + +She did not saddle the horse at once. She first searched the pile of +sweet-smelling 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. She went outside, and +looked carefully at her immediate surroundings. + +“There's hardly a root of it anywhere around close,” she said to +herself. “Nor around the store, either--nor any place where one would be +apt to go ordinarily.” + +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 tossed +him the bag of candy, and stayed upon her horse. + +“Howdy, Peppajee? How your foot? Pretty well, mebbyso?” + +“Mebbyso bueno. Sun come two time, mebbyso walk all same no snake +biteum.” Peppajee's eyes gloated over the gift as he laid it down beside +him. + +“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?” + +“No can walk far.” Peppajee looked meaningly at his bandages. “No can +watchum.” + +“Well, but you could tell somebody else to watch him. I think he do +bad thing to the Harts. You like Harts. You tell somebody to watch +Saunders.” + +“Indians pikeway--ketchum fish. Come back, mebbyso tellum watchum.” + +Miss Georgie drew in her breath for further argument, decided that it +was not worth while, and touched up her horse with the whip. “Good-by,” + she called back, and saw that Peppajee was looking after her with his +eyes, while his face was turned impassively to the front. + +“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 +you--you 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 gold--or 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 done in a minute. + +And since there were four boys with decided ideas upon the +subject--ideas which harmonized only in the fundamental desire to harry +the interlopers, the thing was not to be done without much time being +wasted in fruitless argument. + +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 +ditch, mostly through rocky soil. + +Jack wanted to close all the headgates and just let the water go where +it wanted to--which 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 done--so long as it +was done their way. At least, that is what they said. + +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 biggest--that one under the milk-house.” + 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 sufficiently biting retort. + +So they went to work, each in his own way, agreeing mostly in untiring +industry. That is how Miss Georgie found them occupied--except 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 +milk-house, 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 milk-house, +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 discomfort--of her aunt presumably, since she +herself was high and dry. + +“And it won't do a BIT of good. They'll just knock that dam business all +to pieces to-night--” She was scolding Grant. + +“Swearing, chicken? Things must be in a great state!” + +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 you, Grant Imsen!” + +“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 deliberately cheerful under trying +conditions. + +“Don't quarrel, children,” she advised lightly. “Howdy, Mrs. Hart? What +are they trying to do--drown 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 milk, and laughed at her own +predicament. + +“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 +new ditch. You know I explained just why--” + +“Oh, yes, I know you explained just WHY,” Phoebe cut in disconsolately +and yet humorously, “but explanations don't seem to help my poor +milk-house any. And what about the garden, and the fruit, if you turn +the 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 +the lake you're going to have in the pasture?” + +She looked at Miss Georgie whimsically. “I'm an ungrateful, bad-tempered +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.” + +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 buckets--which +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 them back on their own side of the line.” + +He picked up a floating ribbon-end 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 they, Goldilocks?” + +“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 off--she +was wax--and you always remind me of the horrible expression it gave +to her face. I'd go every day and take her out of the bureau-drawer +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 space at least eight inches wide for Miss Georgie's +accommodation. + +“I can't sit anywhere,” said Miss Georgie, looking at her watch. “By the +way, chicken, did you have to walk all the way home?” + +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 thought.” + +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 finger-tips 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 side--by the +ear, if necessary--and 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 rocks--mostly with +packs on their shoulders that don't rightly belong to them.” She sighed +impatiently. “It must be lovely to be absolutely selfish--when you're +pretty enough and young enough to make it stick!” Miss Georgie was, +without doubt, in a nasty temper that night. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. SOMEBODY SHOT SAUNDERS + +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. One--nothing 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. Two--this exactly like the first, except that those +inseparables, Hagar, Viney, and Lucy, whom Miss Georgie had inelegantly +dubbed “the Three Greases,” appeared, silent, blanket-enshrouded, and +perspiring, at the office door in mid-afternoon. Half a box of soggy +chocolates which the heat had rendered a dismally sticky mass won from +them smiles and half-intelligible speech. Fishing was poor--no ketchum. +Three--not even the diversion of the squaws to make her forget +the dragging hours. Nothing--nothing--nothing, she told herself +apathetically when that third day had slipped upon the black cord of a +soft, warm night, star-sprinkled and unutterably lonely as it brooded +over the desert. + +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 her sleep had reached her door. + +Pete Hamilton's voice, trembling with excitement, called to her. + +“What is it? What has happened?” she cried from within, beset by a +hundred wild conjectures. + +“Saunders--somebody shot Saunders. Wire for a doctor, quick as yuh can. +He ain't dead yet--but 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 answer to the summons. Miss Georgie made haste to follow him. + +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 half-closed +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 section-hands, the Chinese +cook at the section-house, and the Swede foreman, and Pete seemed quite +at a loss what to do. + +“Take him in and put him to bed,” Miss Georgie commanded, turning away. +“See if he's bleeding yet, and--well, I should put a cold compress on +the wound, I think. I'll send for a doctor--but 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 she waited for an answer. + +“G-r-a-n-” her fingers had spelled when she became conscious of the +fact, flushed hotly, and folded her hands tightly together in her lap. + +“The doctor will come--Hawkinson, 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. Especially did she search the loose, sandy soil in its +vicinity for tracks. + +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 follow--or 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 smooth-packed hollow in +the sand where he must have lain. + +“He's got nerve--I'll say that much for him,” she observed aloud, and +went on. + +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. + +“The--deuce!” 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 woman whom one expects to +shed tears for slight cause. + +“If you did it--and you must have--I 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 disappointment also. + +“Did what--to whom--to 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, Squaw-talk-far-off?” He ducked and peered into her face again, and +again his face sobered. “What's the matter?” he asked, in an entirely +different tone--which Miss Georgie, in spite of her mood, found less +satisfying than his banter. + +“Saunders--OUCH; I'd as soon be scalped and done with, as to have you +pull out a hair at a time--Saunders crawled home with a bullet in his +ribs. And I thought--” + +“Saunders!” Good Indian stared down at her, his hands dropped upon her +head. + +Miss Georgie reached up, caught him by the wrists, and held him so while +she tilted her head that she might look up at him. + +“Grant!” she cried softly. “He deserved it. You couldn't help it--he +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 you--or that +anyone would if they knew the truth. I came out to see--I just HAD to +make sure--but you must get away from here. You shouldn't have stayed +so long--” Miss Georgie gave a most unexpected sob, and stopped that she +might grit her teeth in anger over it. + +“You think I shot him.” As Good Indian said it, the sentence was merely +a statement, rather than an accusation or a reproach. + +“I don't blame you. I suspected he was the man up here with the rifle. +That day--that first day, when you told me about someone shooting at +you--he came over to the station. And I saw two or three scraps of sage +sticking under his shirt-collar, 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--” + +“You didn't tell me.” And this time he spoke reproachfully. + +“It was after you had left that I saw it. And I did go down to the ranch +to tell you. But I--you were so--occupied--in other directions--” She +let go his wrists, and began fumbling at her hair, and she bowed her +head again so that her face was hidden from him. + +“You could have told me, anyway,” Good Indian said constrainedly. + +“You didn't want her to know. I couldn't, before her. And I didn't want +to--hurt her by--” Miss Georgie fumbled more with her words than with +her hair. + +“Well, there's no use arguing about that.” Good Indian also found that +subject a difficult one. “You say he was shot. Did he say--” + +“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 look--I've seen them in wrecks, and I know. He won't talk; he +can't. But there'll be an investigation--and 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 handle.” + +“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 +hairs wound up,” he grumbled. + +“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, anyway--witness the way you bawled him out that +day you roped--ow-w!--roped the dog. Baumberger may have wanted him +to keep an eye on you--My Heavens, man! Do you think you're plucking a +goose?” + +“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 you--and 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 still--but I suppose you can't. + +“By the way,” he remarked casually, after a short silence, save for an +occasional squeal from Miss Georgie, “speaking of Saunders--I didn't +shoot him.” + +Miss Georgie looked up at him, to the further entanglement of her hair. +“You DIDN'T? Then who did?” + +“Search ME,” he offered figuratively and briefly. + +“Well, I will.” Miss Georgie spoke with a certain decisiveness, and +reaching out a sage-soiled hand, took his gun from the holster at his +hip. He shrank away with a man's instinctive dislike of having anyone +make free with his weapons, but it was a single movement, which he +controlled instantly. + +“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 witness-box--I +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 rod with you,” she +added, “which would hardly be likely.” + +“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. “Twenty-four--that fast freight--is 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.” + +“I was under the impression that my name is Grant--to friends.” + +“My name is 'Dennis,' if I don't beat that freight,” she retorted +curtly. “Take your knife and give me a hair cut--quick! I can do it a +different way, and cover up the place.” + +“Oh, all right--but 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, and we've been fooling when we should have +been discussing 'ways and means.'” + +“Well, I got up early, and someone took a shot at me again. This time he +clipped my hat-brim.” 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 +sight--we'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 down--oh, 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 want to get hung up +somewhere again.” + +She stood up straight, with a long, deep sigh of relief. + +“Now, pikeway,” he smiled. “And don't run bareheaded through the +bushes again. You've still got time to beat that train. And--about +Saunders--don't worry. I can get to the ranch without being seen, and no +one will know I was up here, unless you tell them.” + +“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 +me--and leave tracks all over the country. Keep on the lava rock. +Haven't you got any sense at all?” + +“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. Really, you must!” her eyes +implored him. + +“Oh, vey-ree well. We haven't met this morning. Good-by, +Squaw-talk-far-off. 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, sage-covered hill to the west. + + + +CHAPTER XXII. A BIT OF PAPER + +Good Indian came out upon the rim-rock, 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 back from the +rim of the bluff. + +“You no shout,” she murmured gravely. “No lettum see you here. You +go quick. Ketchum you cayuse, go to ranch. You no tellum you be this +place.” + +Good Indian stood still, and looked at her. She stood with her +arms folded in her blanket, regarding him with a certain yearning +steadfastness. + +“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--” + +Good Indian reached out, and caught her by both shoulders. + +“Rachel--if you did that, don't tell me about it. Don't tell me +anything. I don't ask you--I 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 begin to tremble under his fingers, and he stopped as +suddenly as he had begun. + +“You no glad? You think shame for me? You think I--all time--very--bad!” + Tragedy was in her voice, and in her great, dark eyes. Good Indian +gulped. + +“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 anything about it, why--I +wouldn't know anything about it. You sabe.” + +“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 kill-dead. All time Man-that-coughs 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 soft-footedly 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 look, and went on, and turned no more toward her until he reached +his horse. + +“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. Good--by.” He mounted, and rode +away. He felt, just then, that it was the kindest thing he could do. + +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. He swung his heels against Keno's +flanks, and rode home. + +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 +worrying him. + + + +“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 water-tank. “Saunders died a few minutes ago. +Pete says you better notify the coroner--and I reckon the sheriff, too. +Pretty tough to be shot down like that in broad daylight.” + +“I think I'd rather be shot in daylight than in the dark,” Miss Georgie +snapped unreasonably because her nerves were all a-jangle, and sent the +messages as requested. + +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 which attends death in any form. + +A dozen Indians hung about the store, the squaws peering inquisitively +in at the uncurtained window of the lean-to--where the bed held a long +immovable burden with a rumpled sheet over it--and the bucks listening +stolidly to the futile gossip on the store porch. + +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 +on--and though Pete did not say that Saunders chose to die when the +stock of paper novels was exhausted, he left that impression upon his +auditors. + +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 wards. + +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 stable-door, +in a due line southeast from the hay-corral, 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 without further fussing over +evidence, at the verdict of suicide. + +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 Saunders' passing, so far as the law was concerned. + +“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 way--for he certainly must +have known enough to put Baumberger behind the bars. + +“But I don't see,” she said, in a puzzled way, “how that gun came onto +the scene. I looked all around the stable this morning, and I could +swear there wasn't any gun.” + +“Well, he did pick it up--fortunately,” Good Indian returned grimly. +“I'm glad the thing was settled so easily.” + +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 four-thirty-five is due pretty soon--and I have +oodles of work.” + +He looked at her strangely, and went away, wondering why Miss Georgie +hated so to have him in the office lately. + +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, and ready to do her a good turn +because of her interest. + +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 bright-eyed +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 shot himself?” + +Peppajee took his little stone pipe from his lips, blew a thin wreath of +smoke, and replaced the stem between his teeth, stared stolidly straight +ahead of him, and said nothing. + +“All the white men say that,” Good Indian persisted, after he had waited +a minute. Peppajee did not seem to hear. + +“Sheriff say that, too. Sheriff found the gun.” + +“Mebbyso sheriff mans heap damfool. Mebbyso heap smart. No sabe.” + +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 the wikiup frame. + +“Yo' no speakum Rachel no more,” he said gravely. “Yo' ketchum 'Vadnah; +no ketchum otha squaw. Bad medicine come. Heap much troubles come. Me no +likeum. My heart heap bad.” + +“I'm Rachel's friend, Peppajee.” Good Indian spoke softly so that others +might not hear. “I sabe what Rachel do. Rachel good girl. I don't want +to bring trouble. I want to help.” + +Peppajee snorted. + +“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 speakum Rachel no more, yo' be friend. + +“Yo' speakum, me like to kill yo', mebbyso.” He spoke calmly, but none +the less his words carried conviction of his sincerity. + +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 eyes. + +“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 trouble.” He stopped and listened, but there was no +sound within. + +Peppajee eyed him comprehendingly, but there was no yielding in his +brown, wrinkled face. + +“Yo' Rachel's frien', yo' pikeway,” he insisted doggedly. + +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 Indian closed his hand upon it, and stood up. + +“All right, I go,” he said calmly to Peppajee, and mounted. + +Peppajee looked at him stolidly, and said nothing. + +“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 you +no help?” + +Peppajee's mouth straightened in a grin of pure irony. + +“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 go. Me no care.” + +“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 unfolded it carefully and looked at it long. + +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 wrapping--paper. It said +simply: + +“God by i lov yo.” + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. THE MALICE OF A SQUAW + +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 by +the corner of the house, and listened shamelessly. + +“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 mischief-making old hag, and +she--oh, I'd like to beat her!” + +Hagar shook her head violently, and her voice rose shrill and malicious, +cutting short Evadna's futile defiance. + +“Ka-a-ay bueno, yo'!” Her teeth gnashed together upon the words. “I no +tellum lie. Good Injun him kill Man-that-coughs. 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 Man-that-coughs. I tellum--” + +“Why didn't you, then, when the sheriff was in Hartley?” Evadna flung at +her angrily. “Because you know it's a lie. That's why.” + +“Yo' thinkum Good Injun love yo', mebbyso.” Hagar's witch-grin was at +its malevolent widest. Her black eyes sparkled with venom. “Yo' heap +fool. Good Injun go all time Squaw-talk-far-off. Speakum glad word. Good +Injun ka-a-ay bueno. Love Squaw-talk-far-off. 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 doorway. + +“Don't you listen to her, honey.” It was Phoebe's turn to reassure. + +Good Indian took a step forward, his face white with rage. Viney saw him +first, muttered an Indian word of warning, and the three sprang up and +backed away from his approach. + +“So you've got to call me a murderer!” he cried, advancing threateningly +upon Hagar. “And even that doesn't satisfy you. You--” + +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 us--what 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 of his face +frightened her. + +Old Hagar spat viciously at them both, and shrilled vituperative +sentences--in 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 dialect of her tribe. + +“Yo' tellum me shont-isham. Mebbyso yo' tellum yo' no ketchum +Squaw-talk-far-off in sagebrush, all time Saunders go dead! Me ketchum +hair--Squaw-talk-far-off 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 hair--the hair of +Miss Georgie, without a doubt. There was no gainsaying that color and +texture. She looked full at Evadna. + +“Yo' like see, me show whereum walk,” she said grimly. “Good Injun boot +make track, Squaw-talk-far-off little shoe make track. Me show, yo' +thinkum mebbyso me tell lie. Stoppum in sagebrush, ketchum hair. Me +ketchum knife--Good Injun knife, mebbyso.” Revenge mastered cupidity, +and she produced that also, and held it up where they could all see. + +Evadna looked and winced. + +“I don't believe a word you say,” she declared stubbornly. “You STOLE +that knife. I suppose you also stole the hair. You can't MAKE me believe +a thing like that!” + +“Squaw-talk-far-off 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 in that one particular. + +“Squaw-talk-far-off sabe Good Injun killum Man-that-coughs, mebbyso,” + she hazarded, watching Good Indian's face cunningly to see if the guess +struck close to the truth. + +“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 you--because you're such a devil I couldn't stop short of killing +you, once I laid my hands on 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. + +“Pikeway!” he commanded. + +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 +then--did Hagar--and waddled after the others, her whole body seeming to +radiate contentment with the evil she had wrought. + +“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 story--not 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 Indians--squaws 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 murder you. It's in her +to do it, if she ever got the chance.” + +“What do you suppose made her ring Georgie Howard in like that?” Phoebe +speculated, looking at Grant. “She must have some grudge against her, +too.” + +“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 they +show up at the station.” + +“Oh--h!” Evadna gave the word that peculiar, sliding inflection of +hers which meant so much, and regarded him unwinkingly, with her hands +clasped behind her. + +Good Indian knew well the meaning of both her tone and her stare, but he +only laughed and caught her by the arm. + +“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, Goldilocks--we haven't had a real satisfying sort of scrap +for several thousand years.” + +She permitted him to lead her to the hammock, and pile three cushions +behind her head and shoulders--with the dark-blue one on top because her +hair looked well against it--and dispose himself comfortably where he +could look his fill at her while he swung the hammock gently with his +boot-heel, 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 finger-tip in turn, +she was as passive as a doll under the caresses of a child. + +“What's the matter?” he demanded, when he found that her manner did not +soften. “Worrying still about what that old squaw said?” + +“Not in the slightest.” Evadna's tone was perfectly polite--which was a +bad sign. + +Good Indian thought he saw the makings of a quarrel in her general +attitude, and he thought he might as well get at once to the real root +of her resentment. + +“What are you thinking about? Tell me, Goldilocks,” he coaxed, pushing +his own troubles to the back of his mind. + +“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering--though it's a trivial matter which +is hardly worth mentioning--but I just happened to wonder how you came +to know that Georgie Howard is in the habit of giving candy to the +squaws--or 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 else--something which he +felt he must keep to himself even in the face of her anger. But this--he +laughed again. + +“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 me--I 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 law--used 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 doing about it. +That's what's keeping him, of course. + +“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 have mo believe you could +possibly be jealous!” + +“No,” said Evadna, in a more amiable tone. “Of course I'm not. But I do +think you showed a--well, 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 +instance--why 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 know. And you see--” + +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 she had started out to say. + +“You see, that gave old Hagar a chance to accuse you of--well, 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! And--Grant, where DID she get hold of that knife, do you +suppose--and--that--bunch of--hair?” 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 it certainly WAS Georgie's +hair.” + +“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, but seeing it wasn't YOUR hair--” + +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, +Squaw-with-sun-hair,” 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 shows that the hour had not been spent in quarreling, +at all events. + +“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.” + +“You don't realize how hot it is,” he discouraged. + +“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 +squaw--the one that caught Huckleberry the other day, you know--would +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 you were, and looked so--” + +“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, all right, +when the old man's gone. We'll go up this evening, if you like.” + +Evadna eyed him with open suspicion, but if she could read his real +meaning from anything in his face or his eyes or his manner, she must +have been a very keen observer indeed. + +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 difference if Miss Georgie did not hear of it immediately. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. PEACEFUL RETURNS + +That afternoon when the four-thirty-five 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 discomfort of that searing sunlight. + +“Howdy, Miss Georgie?” he wheezed, as he passed the window. “Ever see +such hot weather in your life? _I_ never did.” + +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 loose-lipped 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 for the present. + +“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 Hamilton was resting after the +excitement of the past thirty-six hours. + +“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, white-bearded old man thought her a meddlesome fool. + +“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 drawled, and waited placidly for her to speak. + +“You just about swear by old Baumberger, don't you?” she began +presently, fiddling with her lead pencil and going straight to the heart +of what she wanted to say. + +“Well, I dunno. I've kinda learned to fight shy of swearing by anybody, +Miss Georgie.” His mild blue eyes settled attentively upon her flushed +face. + +“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 placer-claim 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 technically within their rights in making lawful improvements on +their claims. + +“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, I suppose. I know the whole eight have been up--” + +“Yes, they've all filed--twenty acres apiece--the 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 discouragement in his voice which it hurt Miss Georgie to hear. + +“Well, they've got to prove that those claims of theirs are lawful, you +know. And if you've got your patent for the homestead--you have got +a patent, haven't you?” Something in his face made her fling in the +question. + +“Y-es--or I thought I had one,” he answered dryly. “It seems now there's +a flaw in it, and it's got to go back to Washington and be rectified. It +ain't legal till that's been done.” + +Miss Georgie half rose from her chair, and dropped back despairingly. +“Who found that mistake?” she demanded. “Baumberger?” + +“Y-es, 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 course. Baumberger was real put out about it.” + +“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 death.” She turned and faced +Peaceful anxiously. + +“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 reason--perhaps +because Grant has shown his hostility from the first. Did you know +Saunders--or someone--has been shooting at Grant from the top of +the bluff for--well, ever since you left? The last shot clipped his +hat-brim. Then Saunders was shot--or shot himself, according to the +inquest--and there has been no more rifle practice with Grant for the +target.” + +“N-no, 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 case--Black. +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 does--but I don't. Not by +a long shot. Black'll ferret out any crooked work.” + +“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 I--well, I struck up a mild sort of +flirtation with the operator at Shoshone.” She smiled deprecatingly at +Peaceful. + +“I wanted to find out--and 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 news-agent and cigar man--you know that kind of joint, where they +sell paper novels and magazines and tobacco and such--getting 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 that--but 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.” + +Miss Georgie laughed ruefully, and patted her pompadour absent-mindedly. + +“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 easy-tempered!” She went and looked out +of the window again uneasily. + +“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 longer--he's looking +this way pretty often, I notice; nothing but the beer-keg holds him, I +imagine. And when he empties that--” She shrugged her shoulders, and sat +down facing Hart. + +“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 ranch--but 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 catch him napping, Mr. Hart.” + +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 taking such an +interest--and I'll tell Black about Jim Wakely.” + +“Don't build any hopes on Jim,” she warned. “He probably doesn't know +anything except that he sent and received messages he couldn't read any +sense into.” + +“Well--there'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, old-fashioned bow, and went over to +join Baumberger--and to ask Pete Hamilton for the use of his team and +buckboard. + +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 office door, because she felt +that she was being watched. + +“How, Hagar, and Viney, and Lucy,” she greeted languidly when she saw +the three squaws sidle closer, and reached for a bag of candy for them. + +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 time it was not empty. + +“Ketchum sagebrush,” she announced laconically. “Mebbyso yo' like for +buy?” + +Miss Georgie stared fixedly at the hand, and said nothing. Hagar drew it +under her blanket, held it fumbling there, and thrust it forth again. + +“Ketchum where ketchum hair,” she said, and her wicked old eyes twinkled +with malice. “Mebbyso yo' like for buy?” + +Miss Georgie still stared, and said nothing. Her under lip was caught +tightly between her teeth by now, and her eyebrows were pulled close +together. + +“Ketchum much track, same place,” said Hagar grimly. “Good Injun makeum +track all same boot. Seeum Good Injun creep, creep in bushes, all time +Man-that-coughs 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 tell, mebbyso.” + +Miss Georgie felt blindly for her chair, and when she touched it she +backed and sank into it rather heavily. She looked white and sick, and +Hagar eyed her gloatingly. + +“Yo' no like for Good Injun be killum rope,” she chuckled. “Yo' all time +thinkum heap bueno. Mebbyso yo' love. Yo' buy? Yo' payum much dolla?” + +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 bright-red 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. “You no be sad. No trouble come Good +Injun. I friend.” + +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 her chin at Miss Georgie. + +“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 Man-that-coughs.” Turning, she waddled out, +jabbing viciously at the young squaw with her elbow as she passed, and +spitting out some sort of threat or command--Miss Georgie could not tell +which. + +The young squaw lingered, still gazing shyly at Miss Georgie. + +“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 +half-moons 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 “Ah-h-CHUCK! ah-h-CHUCK!” of the steam pump down the track, +and to the spasmodic clicking of an order from the dispatcher to the +passenger train two stations to the west. + +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 the office. + +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 +saddle-horse; 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. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. “I'D JUST AS SOON HANG FOR NINE MEN AS FOR ONE” + +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 toward him. + +“I said HULLO. Nothin' wrong in that, is there? HULLO--d'yuh hear?” + +“Go to the devil!” said Grant shortly. + +Baumberger leered at him offensively. “Pretty Polly! Never learned but +one set uh words in his life. Can't yuh say anything but 'Go to the +devil!' when a man speaks to yuh? Hey?” + +“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 point if I were you.” + +“Giving me advice, hey? And who the devil are you?” + +“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 +the side of a barn if he'd been locked inside it. You ought to have made +sure--” + +Baumberger glared at him, and then lunged, his eyes like an animal gone +mad. + +“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 Injun--and if he couldn't, I can! +Yuh WILL watch me, hey?” + +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. Heat-mad +and drink-mad 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 one of his catlike motions, pulled a gun, and fired without really +taking aim. + +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 boys--Wally +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. Peaceful stood beside the +team, with the lines still in his hand. + +It was Miss Georgie's words which reached him clearly. + +“You just HAD to do it, Grant. I saw the whole thing. You HAD to.” + +“Oh, Grant--GRANT! What have you done? What have you done?” That was +Phoebe Hart, saying the same thing over and over with a queer, moaning +inflection in her voice. + +“D'yuh KILL him?” Gene shouted excitedly, as he ran up to the spot. + +“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 the road in the direction of +the garden. + +“He's mad! The boy is mad! He's going to kill--” Phoebe gave a sob, and +ran after him, and with her went Miss Georgie and Evadna, white-faced, +all three of them. + +“Come on, boys--he's going to clean out the whole bunch!” whooped Gene. + +“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 lightning-stricken 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 unobtrusively ready for whatever might be going to +happen. + +Good Indian appraised the situation with a quick glance as he came up, +but he did not slacken his pace until he was within ten feet of Stanley. + +“You're across the dead line, m' son,” said Stanley, with lazy +significance. “And you, too,” he added, flickering a glance at Miss +Georgie. + +“The dead line,” said Good Indian coolly, “is beyond the Point o' Rocks. +I'd like to see you on the other side by sundown.” + +Stanley looked him over, from the crown of his gray hat to the tips of +his riding-boots, and laughed when his eyes came back to Good Indian's +face. But the laugh died out rather suddenly at what he saw there. + +“Got the papers for that?” he asked calmly. But his jaw had squared. + +“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 face--and +Stanley's right hand, too, perhaps. “If you don't want the same +medicine, I'd advise you to quit.” + +Stanley's jaw dropped, but it was surprise which slackened the muscles. + +“You--shot--” + +“Baumberger. I said it.” + +“You'll hang for that,” Stanley stated impersonally, without moving. + +Good Indian smiled, but it only made his face more ominous. + +“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 soon,” he added composedly, “be +hanged for nine men as for one.” + +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 gun-butts. Old Peaceful half-raised his rifle, and held it so. It +was like being compelled to watch a fuse hiss and shrivel and go black +toward a keg of gun-powder. + +“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 personal resentment in tone or manner, and raked the match along his +thigh. + +Good Indian's shoulders went up a little. + +“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 +friends--and NO ONE ELSE. Tell that to your pals, unless you've got a +grudge against them!” + +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 business proposition. + +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 sight of something she was +carrying in her hand, and he gave a short laugh. + +“What are you doing with that thing?” he asked peremptorily. + +Miss Georgie blushed very red, and slid the thing into her pocket. + +“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 Stanley--when you turned your back on him.” + +Good Indian stopped, looked at her queerly, and went on again without +saying a word. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. “WHEN THE SUN GOES AWAY” + +“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 +seeing such things happen--” + +“Where is she?” Good Indian asked tersely, and was answered immediately +by the sound of sobbing on the east porch. The three went together, but +it was Grant who reached her first. + +“Don't cry, Goldilocks,” he said tenderly, bending over her. “It's all +right now. There isn't going to be any more--” + +“Oh! Don't TOUCH me!” She sprang up and backed from him, horror plain in +her wide eyes. “Make him keep away, Aunt Phoebe!” + +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 woman--I'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.” + +“He--KILLED 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 mark--where he grazed my arm! And he LAUGHED about it! +I called him a savage then--and I was RIGHT--only he can be so nice when +he wants to be--and I forgot about the Indian in him--and 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 indignantly. + +“'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 image--didn't you ever see a case +of nerves before? She doesn't know what she's saying--if she did, she +wouldn't be saying it. You go on, and let me handle her alone. Men are +just a nuisance in a case like this.” + +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 +must not take Evadna seriously, because she did not. + +“We'd better take her to her room, Mrs. Hart,” she suggested, “and make +her lie down for a while. That poor fellow--as if he didn't have enough +on his hands without this!” + +“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! I--” + +“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 and a coward if he hadn't. You come +and lie down a while.” + +“I WON'T lie down. I don't care if he did have to do it--I couldn't +love him afterward. And he didn't have to go down there and threaten +Stanley--and--HE'LL DO IT, TOO!” She fell to trembling again. “He'll DO +it--at sundown.” + +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 me--Oh, what does he think I AM?” She leaned against the wall, +and sobbed. + +“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 was up there killing Saunders--” + +“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 had been a ten-year-old child in a +tantrum. + +“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 and--STAY +there. Do you hear? And don't you dare let another yip out of you till +you can talk sense.” + +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 room--it +sounded almost as if she dragged her there by force--and 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 been itching for something like this +ever since the trouble started. + +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 something--something that would hurt him more +than he had been hurt since his father died in that same house. But in +the meantime he need only think. + +The shadow of the grove, with the long fingers of the 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 lily-pad 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. + +Phoebe came out from the sitting-room, ran down the steps, and barred +his way. + +“Grant!” she said, and there were tears in her eyes, “don't do anything +rash--don't. If it's for our sakes--and I know it is--don'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 war-talk.” He hesitated, bent his head, and kissed her on +the forehead as she stood looking up at him, and went on. + +“Grant--GRANT!” she cried heartbrokenly after him, and sank down on the +porch-steps with her face hidden in her arms. + +Miss Georgie was standing beside the gate, looking toward the stable. +She may not have been waiting for him, but she turned without any show +of surprise when he walked up behind her. + +“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 +dead-line by sundown. There goes Stanley now. Do you really feel that +your future happiness depends on getting through this gate? Well--if you +must--” She swung it open, but she stood in the opening. + +“Grant, I--it's hard to say just what I want to say--but--you did right. +You acted the man's part. No matter what--others--may 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, to--to help--you'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 you 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 fight--and there did seem to be the makings of a +beautiful row!” + +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 +could not have told that Miss Georgie remembered anything tragic. + +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 bay. “It just occurred to me that there +must have been.” + +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 them--the old blackmailer! She made +threats, Grant--about Saunders. She says you--I 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. What shall I tell her? We +can't have that story mouthed all over the country.” + +Good Indian twisted a wisp of mane in his fingers, and frowned +abstractedly. + +“If you'll ride on slowly,” he told her, at last straightening the +twisted lock, “I'll overtake you. I think I'd better see that old +Jezebel myself.” + +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 he were thinking deeply. Perhaps he was glad to be let off so easily. + +“Abandoning my claim,” he announced, lightly as a man of his prosaic +temperament could speak upon such a subject. “Dern poor placer mining +down there, if yuh want to know!” + +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 +beside him. And the woman understood, and was glad that she was there. + +From the Indian camp, back in the sage-inclosed hollow, rose a sound +of high-keyed wailing. The two heard it, and looked at each other +questioningly. + +“Something's up over there,” Good Indian said, answering her look. “That +sounds to me like the squaws howling over a death.” + +“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 +into the camp. + +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 him +instead. + +“What's the matter here, Peppajee?” he asked. “Heap trouble walk down at +Hart Ranch. Trouble walk here all same, mebbyso?” + +Peppajee looked at him sourly, but the news was big, and it must be +told. + +“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 eatum--all time heap sad. Ketchum bad spirit, mebbyso. +Ketchum debbil. Sun go 'way, ketchum knife, go Hagar wikiup. +Killum Hagar--so.” He thrust out his arm as one who stabs. “Killum +himself--so.” He struck his chest with his clenched fist. “Hagar heap +dead. Rachel heap dead. Kay bueno. Mebbyso yo' heap bad medicine. Yo' +go.” + +“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. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. LIFE ADJUSTS ITSELF AGAIN TO SOME THINGS + +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 rim-rock 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 tried--with the aid of +various plugs of tobacco and much expectoration--the case and rendered +a unanimous verdict upon it long before the coroner arrived. “Done just +right,” was the verdict of Public Opinion, and the self-constituted +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 +courage to defend himself and those dear to him from a great danger. + +With everything so agreeably disposed of according to the crude--though +none the less true, perhaps--ethics 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 official approval. + +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 the rough box was lowered to +the station platform. + +As the sky clears and grows blue and deep and unfathomably peaceful +after a storm, as trees wind-riven straighten and nod graciously to the +little cloud-boats that sail the blue above, and wave dainty finger-tips +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 +train--which bore the coroner and that other quiet passenger--came +faintly down over the rim-rock, settle with a sigh of relief into its +old, easy habits of life. + +All, that is, save Good Indian himself, and perhaps one other. + + . . . . . . . . . + +Peaceful cleared his white mustache and beard from a few stray drops of +coffee and let his mild blue eyes travel slowly around the table, from +one tanned young face to another. + +“Now the excitement's all over and done with,” he drawled in his +half-apologetic 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 spoiled already; but the small fruit can be saved.” + +“Clark and I was going up to the Injun camp,” spoke up Gene. “We wanted +to see--” + +“You'll have to do some riding to get there,” Good Indian informed them +dryly. “They hit the trail before sunrise this morning.” + +“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 milk-house now, Mother Hart,” he +promised lightly, “so you won't have to wear rubber-boots 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 +long-handled shovel is?” Again he eyed Evadna without seeming to see her +at all. + +“If it isn't down at the stable,” said Jack soberly, “or by the +apple-cellar 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 slammed, and Jack laughed with his eyes fast shut and +three dimples showing. + +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, “or--WHISTLE, after--” Her +lips quivered a little. She was a distressed Christmas angel, if ever +there was one. + +Wally snorted. “Want us to go CRYING around because the row's over?” he +demanded. “Think Grant ought to wear crepe, I suppose--because he ain't +on ice this morning--or 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 Wally to +make, and he made it with deliberate malice. + +“Now you're shouting!” applauded Gene, also with the intent to be +shocking. + +“THAT'S the stuff,” approved Clark, grinning at Evadna's horrified eyes. + +“Grant can run over me sharp-shod 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 +hope?” + +“Good Injun's the stuff, all right. He'd 'a' licked the hull damn--” + +“Now, Donny, be careful what language you use,” Phoebe admonished, and +so cut short his high-pitched song of praise. + +“I don't care--I 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 her--which he did. Evadna shivered, pressed her +wisp of handkerchief against her lips, and left the table hurriedly. + +“You boys ought to be ashamed of yourselves!” Phoebe scolded +half-heartedly; 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 life--unless he was laid out in +church with flower-anchors piled knee-deep all over him. And to see +one shot right before her very eyes--and by the man she expects--or did +expect to marry--why, 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 rocks which formed the floor +of the milk-house. + +“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 +maybe.” + +“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 voice. + +“About Vadnie--and you. I notice you don't speak--you haven't that I've +seen, since that day--on 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, Grant--and 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 minute, but when he did he spoke very +quietly, stroking her hair the while. + +“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 savage--an Indian. My mother's mother was the daughter +of a chief. She was a good woman; my mother was a good woman; just as +good as if she had been white. + +“Mother Hart, I'm a white man in everything but half my mother's blood. +I don't remember her--but 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 and--and take her in my arms--and love +her, knowing that she feels as she does? She can't even forgive me for +killing that beast! + +“She's a beautiful thing--I 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 drip-dripped to the pool below. + +“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 of--oh, +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 when--she +went on so. She doesn't know anything about the realities of life. She +doesn't mean to be hard.” + +“Yesterday,” said Grant with an odd little smile, “she was not +hysterical. It seems that--shooting--was 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 her--and I didn't satisfactorily explain about that hair +and knife that Hagar had. And--oh, it isn't the killing, altogether! I +guess we were both a good deal mistaken in our feelings.” + +“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 +extravagance--she shook her head at it. That was not what she had been +taught to call love, and she wondered how a man and a maid could be +mistaken about so vital an emotion. + +“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 MISTAKEN!” + +Good Indian gave her one of his quick, sidelong glances. + +“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! +Bull-headed, 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. + +Good Indian laughed softly and bent to his work again. + +“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 long--only _I_ +don't call it love! You might tell me--” + +“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 his fingers impatiently so that the +last drops hurried to the pool. + +“She's a good girl, and a brave girl,” Phoebe remarked irrelevantly. + +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 surrender. + +“Squaw-talk-far-off heap smart,” he mimicked old Peppajee gravely. “Heap +bueno.” He stood up as suddenly as he had started his rock-lifting 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 whimsically. “Give a fellow time to roll a +cigarette, can't you?” + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Good Indian, by B. M. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/938-0.zip b/938-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dcc13f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/938-0.zip diff --git a/938-h.zip b/938-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..79c9db7 --- /dev/null +++ b/938-h.zip diff --git a/938-h/938-h.htm b/938-h/938-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1a68e95 --- /dev/null +++ b/938-h/938-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10758 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Good Indian, by B. M. Bower + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Good Indian, by B. M. Bower + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Good Indian + +Author: B. M. Bower + +Release Date: July 26, 2008 [EBook #938] +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOOD INDIAN *** + + + + +Produced by Ken Smidge, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + GOOD INDIAN + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by B. M. Bower + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + 1912 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>GOOD INDIAN</b> </a><br /> <br /> <br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> PEACEFUL HART RANCH + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> GOOD + INDIAN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> OLD + WIVES TALES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> THE + CHRISTMAS ANGEL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> "I + DON'T CARE MUCH ABOUT GIRLS” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER + VI. </a> THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL PLAYS GHOST <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> MISS GEORGIE HOWARD, + OPERATOR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> THE + AMIABLE ANGLER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> PEPPAJEE + JIM “HEAP SABES” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> MIDNIGHT + PROWLERS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> "YOU + CAN'T PLAY WITH ME” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. + </a> "THEM DAMN SNAKE” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> + CHAPTER XIII. </a> CLOUD-SIGN VERSUS CUPID <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> THE CLAIM-JUMPERS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> SQUAW-TALK-FAR-OFF + HEAP SMART <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> "DON'T + GET EXCITED!” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> A + LITTLE TARGET-PRACTICE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER + XVIII. </a> A SHOT FROM THE RIM-ROCK <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> EVADNA GOES CALLING + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> MISS + GEORGIE ALSO MAKES A CALL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER + XXI. </a> SOMEBODY SHOT SAUNDERS <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> A BIT OF PAPER <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> THE MALICE OF A + SQUAW <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> PEACEFUL + RETURNS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> "I'D + JUST AS SOON HANG FOR NINE MEN AS FOR ONE” <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> "WHEN THE SUN GOES + AWAY” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> LIFE + ADJUSTS ITSELF AGAIN TO SOME THINGS <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + GOOD INDIAN + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. PEACEFUL HART RANCH + </h2> + <p> + It was somewhere in the seventies when old Peaceful Hart woke to a + realization that gold-hunting and lumbago do not take kindly to one + another, and the fact that his pipe and dim-eyed 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 new-made 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 with + and fed, but enemies to be fought, upon occasion. + </p> + <p> + They felt that fate had cheated them—did 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 mildest-mannered man who ever + helped to tame the West when it really needed taming, had somehow fathered + five riotous young males to whom fight meant fun—and the fiercer, + the funnier. + </p> + <p> + He used to suck at his old, straight-stemmed 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 pale-blue eyes dwell speculatively upon the + face of his wife, Phoebe. Clearly he considered that she was responsible + for their dispositions. + </p> + <p> + 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, and stole bread from Phoebe's pantry at night—but + that is a story in itself. + </p> + <p> + 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 buttermilk, and cream. + </p> + <p> + 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 fingers, far up the bluff when the sun + sank low in the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Behind them grew a small jungle of trees-catalpa and locust among them—a + jungle which surrounded the house, and in summer hid it from sight + entirely. + </p> + <p> + 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 the frosts came, and + the bees, and humming—birds 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 planned + it for the daughters he had been denied. + </p> + <p> + It was an ideal place for hammocks and romance—a place where dainty + maidens might dream their way to womanhood. And Peaceful Hart, when all + was done, grew old watching five full-blooded 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 if + he wondered whether, after all, it had been worth while. + </p> + <p> + 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 nature. Outside the + fence dwelt sturdier, Western realities. + </p> + <p> + 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 + new-gathered from the orchard or a place at Phoebe's long table in the + great kitchen. + </p> + <p> + There was the stone blacksmith shop, where the boys sweated over the nice + adjustment of shoes upon the feet of fighting, wild-eyed horses, which + afterward would furnish a spectacle of unseemly behavior under the saddle. + </p> + <p> + Farther away were the long stable, the corrals where broncho-taming 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 skyline. + </p> + <p> + A glint of slithering green showed where the Snake hugged the bluff a mile + away, and a brown trail, ankle-deep in dust, stretched straight out to the + west, and then lost itself unexpectedly behind a sharp, jutting point of + rocks where the bluff had thrust out a rugged finger into the valley. + </p> + <p> + By devious turnings and breath-taking climbs, the trail finally reached + the top at the only point for miles, where it was possible for a horseman + to pass up or down. + </p> + <p> + 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 settlement or ranch. + </p> + <p> + 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 Ranch, conjured from the sage and the + sand in the valley of the Snake. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. GOOD INDIAN + </h2> + <p> + There is a saying—and if it is not purely Western, it is at least + purely American—that the only good Indian is a dead Indian. In the + very teeth of that, and in spite of the fact that he was neither very + good, nor an Indian—nor in any sense “dead”—men called Grant + Imsen “Good Indian” to his face; and if he resented the title, his + resentment was never made manifest—perhaps 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 man—though they also + spoke of him unthinkingly as “Good Injun.” + </p> + <p> + Because old Wolfbelly himself would grudgingly admit under pressure that + the mother of Grant had been the half-caste 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 his—not + even his assured position there could keep him from sometimes feeling + quite alone, and perhaps a trifle bitter over his loneliness. + </p> + <p> + 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 one of the gold coins in schooling. + </p> + <p> + 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 claim—others he had which promised little and so did + not count—he 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. + </p> + <p> + “That boy uh mine's goin' to do better 'n that, by God!” he had sworn, and + the words had sounded like a vow. + </p> + <p> + When, two months after that, he had faced—incredulously, as is the + way with strong men—the 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 hands, and stared + intently from one face to the other. + </p> + <p> + “Mis' Hart, he ain't got—anybody—my folks—I lost track + of 'em years ago. You see to it—git some learnin' in his head. When + a man knows books—it's—like bein' heeled—good gun—plenty + uh ca't'idges—in a fight. When I got that gold—it was like + fightin' with my bare hands—against a gatlin' gun. They coulda + cheated me—whole thing—on paper—I wouldn't know—luck—just + luck they didn't. So you take it—and git the boy schoolin'. Costs + money—I know that—git him all it'll buy. Send him—where + they keep—the best. Don't yuh let up—n'er let him—whilst + they's a dollar left. Put it all—into his head—then he can't + lose it, and he can—make it earn more. An'—I guess I needn't + ask yuh—be good to him. He ain't got anybody—not a soul—Injuns + don't count. You see to it—don't let up till—it's all gone.” + </p> + <p> + 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 to—and 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 immediate vicinity. + </p> + <p> + 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 him. + </p> + <p> + 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 sage-clothed 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 bitterness. + </p> + <p> + 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 + blanket and frowsy braids. + </p> + <p> + “How much?” The braided one fingered indecisively the broad brim of a gray + sombrero. + </p> + <p> + “Nine dollars.” Pete leaned heavily against the shelves behind him and + sighed with the weariness of mere living. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! All same buy one good hoss.” The braided one dropped the hat, + hitched his blanket over his shoulder in stoical disregard of the heat, + and turned away. + </p> + <p> + Pete replaced the cover, seemed about to place the box upon the shelf + behind him, and then evidently decided that it was not worth the effort. + He sighed again. + </p> + <p> + “It is almighty hot,” he mumbled languidly. “Want another drink, Good + Injun?” + </p> + <p> + “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 cellar where it isn't two hundred in the + shade. Why don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “We was going to get ice t'day, but they didn't throw it off when the + train went through.” + </p> + <p> + “That's comforting—to a man with a thirst like the great Sahara. + Ice! Pete, do you know what I'd like to do to a man that mentions ice + after a drink like that?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I'm going—for a drink out of that spring, if nothing else. + You've lost a good customer to-day, Pete. I rode up here prepared to get + sinfully jagged—and here I've got to go on a still hunt for water + with a chill to it—or maybe buttermilk. Pete, do you know what I + think of you and your joint?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 post-office. “Let me inform you, then, that—” + </p> + <p> + 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 bareheaded, + and carried a door key suspended from a smooth-worn bit of wood. + </p> + <p> + “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 late—as + 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 knows—and 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 + post-office, bored beyond words with life as it must be lived—to + judge from her tone and her attitude. + </p> + <p> + “For Heaven's sake, Pete,” she went on languidly, “can't you scare up a + novel, or chocolates, or gum, or—ANYTHING to kill time? I'd even + enjoy chewing gum right now—it would give my jaws something to think + of, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + Pete, grinning indulgently, came out of retirement behind the pigeonholes, + and looked inquiringly around the store. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The young woman made a grimace of disgust. “I've come from three solid + hours of it. What I really do want is something to read. Haven't you even + got an almanac?” + </p> + <p> + “Saunders is readin' 'The Brokenhearted Bride'—you can have it + soon's he's through. He says it's a peach.” + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen is bringing up a bunch of magazines. I'll have reading in plenty + two hours from now; but my heavens above, those two hours!” She struck + both fists despairingly upon the counter. + </p> + <p> + “I've got gumdrops, and fancy mixed—” + </p> + <p> + “Forget it, then. A five-pound box of chocolates is due—on 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 desperate I am for something to do!” + </p> + <p> + Pete smiled unhappily. He was sensitive about all those chins, and the + general bulk which accompanied them. + </p> + <p> + “Let me make you acquainted with my friend, Good In—er—Mr. + 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 twenty-three years old.” He felt that the inference was too plain to + be ignored. + </p> + <p> + 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 really + pathetic.” + </p> + <p> + Pete bristled—as much as a fat man could bristle on so hot a day. + “Well, you said you wanted to flirt, and so I took it for granted you'd + like—” + </p> + <p> + Good Indian looked straight past the girl, and scowled at Pete. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 off exactly. Who is this Mr. + Imsen?” + </p> + <p> + She got no reply to that. Indeed, she did not wait for a reply. Outside, + things were happening—and, since Miss Georgie was dying of dullness, + she hailed the disturbance as a Heaven-sent blessing, and ran to see what + was going on. + </p> + <p> + Briefly, Grant had inadvertently stepped on a sleeping dog's paw—a + 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 haste. + </p> + <p> + 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 drew + it tight. + </p> + <p> + Saunders, a weak-lunged, bandy-legged 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 + tender-heartedness, waved his arms and called aloud in the name of peace. + </p> + <p> + “Turn him loose, I tell yuh! A helpless critter like that—you oughta + be ashamed—abusin' dumb animals that can't fight back!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, can't he?” Grant laughed grimly. + </p> + <p> + “You turn that dog loose!” Saunders became vehement, and paid the penalty + of a paroxysm of coughing. + </p> + <p> + “You go to the devil. If you were an able-bodied man, I'd get you, too—just + to have a pair of you. Yelping, snapping curs, both of you.” He played the + dog as a fisherman plays a trout. + </p> + <p> + “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 + indifferently. + </p> + <p> + “Sure it isn't old Hagar's?” + </p> + <p> + “No b'long-um Hagar—b'long-um Viney. Viney heap likum.” + </p> + <p> + Grant hesitated, circling erratically with his victim close to the steps. + “All right, no killum—teachum lesson, though. Viney heap bueno squaw—heap + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 shoulder—blades. “Come along, + doggie—NICE 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 the Indian camp must be. + </p> + <p> + Old Wolfbelly had but that morning brought his thirty or forty followers + to camp in the hollow where was a spring of clear water—the 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 he 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 laughed outright at the panic of them. + </p> + <p> + “Hello! Viney! I brought back your dog,” he drawled. “He tried to bite me—heap + kay bueno* dog. Mebbyso you killum. Me no hurtum—all 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 + dog—sabe? No keep—Kay bueno. All time try for bite. You + cookum, no can bite. Sabe?” + </p> + <p> + *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 phrase, their like or dislike of an object or + person. + </p> + <p> + 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 some mail for the + Harts, and turned back to get it. + </p> + <p> + 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 + dining-car conductor to throw off a chunk of ice. Grant, therefore, led + his horse around into the shade, and made himself comfortable while he + waited. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. OLD WIVES TALES + </h2> + <p> + 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 of the dog was fresh in their minds and + tickling their tongues. + </p> + <p> + The Hart boys were assembled at the corral, halter-breaking a + three-year-old 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 grinned—grinned and hid her joy in a fold of her dingy + red blanket. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Say!” Gene giggled with fourteen-year-old irrepressibility. “Does anybody + know where Vadnie is? If we could spring 'em on her and make her believe + they're on the warpath—say, I'll gamble she'd run clear to the + Malad!” + </p> + <p> + “I told her, cross my heart, this morning that the Injuns are peaceful + now. I said Good Injun was the only one that's dangerous—oh, 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 relish. + </p> + <p> + “Aw—there'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 gabble—there's old Hagar waddling along like a + duck. You can't make that warpath business stick, Clark—not with all + them squaws.” + </p> + <p> + “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 hour—she's churning, Don—you hide in the rocks by the + milk-house till they get settled. And I'll see if—Git! Pikeway, + while they're behind the stacks!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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 horse-breaking; and for the present Clark held his + peace. + </p> + <p> + The squaws hovered there for a moment longer, peeping through the rails. + Then Hagar—she of much flesh and more temper—grunted 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 + which demands that one wait until invited to enter a strange camp. + </p> + <p> + 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 self-conscious assurance, and led the way soft-footedly around + the house to where certain faint sounds betrayed the presence of Phoebe + Hart in her stone milk-house. + </p> + <p> + 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 butter-ladle to shake hands all + around. + </p> + <p> + “How, Hagar? How, Viney? How, Lucy? Heap glad to see you. Bueno buttermilk—mebbyso + you drinkum?” + </p> + <p> + 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 outstretched—though 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 blanket across their milk-white + lips, and grinned in pure animal satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Bueno. He-e-ap bueno!” they chorused appreciatively, and squatted at the + top of the stone steps, watching Phoebe manipulate the great ball of + yellow butter in its wooden bowl. + </p> + <p> + After a brief silence, Hagar shook the tangle of unkempt, black hair away + from her moonlike face, and began talking in a soft monotone, her voice + now and then rising to a shrill singsong. + </p> + <p> + “Mebbyso Tom, mebbyso Sharlie, mebbyso Sleeping Turtle all time come + along,” she announced. “Stop all time corral, talk yo' boys. Mebbyso heap + likum drink yo' butter water. Bueno.” + </p> + <p> + When Phoebe nodded assent, Hagar went on to the news which had brought her + so soon to the ranch—the news which satisfied both an old grudge and + her love of gossip. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “All time heap yell, heap shoot—kay bueno. Wantum fight + Man-that-coughs. Come all time camp, heap yell, heap shoot some more. I + fetchum dog—Viney dog—heap dragum through sagebrush—dog + all time cry, no can get away—me thinkum kill that dog. Squaws cry—Viney + cry—Good Injun”—Hagar paused here for greater effect—“makum + horse all time buck—ridum in wikiup—Hagar wikiup—all + time breakum—no can fix that wikiup. Good Injun, hee-e-ap kay + bueno!” At the last her voice was high and tremulous with anger. + </p> + <p> + “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 dog—me think no catchum. Grant all same + my boy. All time me likum—heap bueno.” + </p> + <p> + 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 stubborn + under lip. + </p> + <p> + “Wally boy, heap bueno,” she said; and her malicious old face softened as + she spoke of him, dear as her own first-born. “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, hee-ee-eap kay bueno. Good Injun Grant all + time DEBBIL!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Phoebe in her earnestness forgot to keep within the limitations of their + dialect. + </p> + <p> + “Grant's a good boy, and a smart boy. There isn't a better-hearted 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 + liked Grant. + </p> + <p> + “Viney, you tell me. Grant no come Hartley, no drunk, no yell, no catchum + you dog, no ride in Hagar's wikiup? You tell me, Viney.” + </p> + <p> + Viney and Lucy bobbed their heads rapidly up and down. Viney, with a + sidelong glance at Hagar, spoke softly. + </p> + <p> + “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 dog—dog kay bueno, mebbyso me + killing. Good Injun Grant no heap yell, no shoot all time—mebbyso no + drunk. No breakum wikiup. Horse all time kay bueno, Hagar—” + </p> + <p> + “Shont-isham!” (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, + despaired of getting any nearer the truth from any of them. + </p> + <p> + 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 voice—for the squaws knew well the few women voices along + the Snake. + </p> + <p> + “That my girl,” Phoebe explained, stopping the soft pat—pat of her + butter-ladle. + </p> + <p> + “Where ketchum yo' girl?” Hagar forgot her petulance, and became curious + as any white woman. + </p> + <p> + “Me ketchum 'way off, where sun come up. In time me have heap boys—mebbyso + 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 mother—all 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 importance; but Phoebe + was accustomed to treat them like spoiled children. + </p> + <p> + Hagar's lip was out-thrust again. “Yo' ketchum one girl, mebbyso yo' no + more likum my boy Wally. Kay bueno.” + </p> + <p> + “Heap like all my boys jus' same,” Phoebe hastened to assure her, and + added with a hint of malice, “Heap like my boy Grant all same.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” Hagar chose to remain unconvinced and antagonistic. “Good Injun kay + bueno. Yo' girl, mebbyso kay bueno.” + </p> + <p> + “What name yo' girl?” Viney interposed hastily. + </p> + <p> + “Name Evadna Ramsey.” In spite of herself, Phoebe felt a trifle chilled by + their lack of enthusiasm. She went back to her butter-making in dignified + silence. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + right—perhaps 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 + by fate, stirred slightly, her nostrils aquiver. + </p> + <p> + “Mebbyso bueno yo' girl,” she yielded, speaking softly. “Mebbyso see yo' + girl.” + </p> + <p> + Phoebe's face cleared, and she called, in mellow crescendo: “Oh, + Va-ad-NIEE?” Immediately the singing stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Coming, Aunt Phoebe,” answered the voice. + </p> + <p> + 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 of antagonism even to the soft eyes of + Lucy, the tender, childless one. + </p> + <p> + “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 you—and don't look so + horrified, honey!” + </p> + <p> + Those incorrigibles, her cousins, would have whooped with joy at her + unmistakable terror when she held out a trembling hand and gasped faintly: + “H-how do you—do?” + </p> + <p> + “This Hagar,” Phoebe announced cheerfully; and the old squaw caught the + girl's hand and gripped it tightly for a moment in malicious enjoyment of + her too evident fear and repulsion. + </p> + <p> + “This Viney.” + </p> + <p> + Viney, reading Evadna's face in one keen, upward glance, kept her hands + hidden in the folds of her blanket, and only nodded twice reassuringly. + </p> + <p> + “This Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy read also the girl's face; but she reached up, pressed her hand + gently, and her glance was soft and friendly. So the ordeal was over. + </p> + <p> + “Bring some of that cake you baked to-day, honey—and do brace up!” + Phoebe patted her upon the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + 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 + blankets into place, and vanished, soft-footed as they had come. + </p> + <p> + “Oo-oo!” Evadna stared at the place where they were not. “Wild Indians—I + thought the boys were just teasing when they said so—and it's really + true, Aunt Phoebe?” + </p> + <p> + “They're no wilder than you are,” Phoebe retorted impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they ARE wild. They're exactly like in my history—and they + don't make a sound when they go—you just look, and they're gone! + That old fat one—did you see how she looked at me? As if she wanted + to—SCALP me, Aunt Phoebe! She looked right at my hair and—” + </p> + <p> + “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 get used to them—” + </p> + <p> + 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 milk-house, he dragged the + squaw along beside the porch, followed by the Indians and all the Hart + boys, a yelling, jeering audience. + </p> + <p> + “You tell her shont-isham! Ah-h—you can't break loose, you old + she-wildcat. Quit your biting, will you? By all the big and little spirits + of your tribe, you'll wish—” + </p> + <p> + 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 unsentient stone. + </p> + <p> + “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 Hart—didn'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 yell—all + time bueno.' Quick, or I'll land you headforemost in that pond, you + infernal old hag!” + </p> + <p> + “Good Injun hee-eeap kay bueno! Heap debbil all time.” Hagar might be + short of breath, but her spirit was unconquered, and her under lip bore + witness to her stubbornness. + </p> + <p> + Phoebe caught him by the arm then, thinking he meant to make good his + threat—and it would not have been unlike Grant Imsen to do so. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Grant, you let her go,” she coaxed. “I know you aren't drunk—of + 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, Grant—a man + can't fight a woman—” + </p> + <p> + “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 shoe—shook her till her hair quite hid her ugly old face from + sight. + </p> + <p> + “All right—Mother 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 shont-isham. Him all time my + friend—mebbyso him no likum you no more. + </p> + <p> + “Huh. Get out—pikeway before I forget you're a lady!” + </p> + <p> + 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 milk-house wall; and when they were gone, he gave a + short, apologetic laugh. + </p> + <p> + “No need to lecture, Mother Hart. I know it was a fool thing to do; but + when Donny told me what the old devil said, I was so mad for a minute—” + </p> + <p> + 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—” + </p> + <p> + “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 kitchen-door shut, and the click of the lock. He heard other + doors slam suggestively; and he laughed in spite of his astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “And who the deuce might that be?” he asked, feeling in his pocket for + smoking material. + </p> + <p> + Phoebe seemed undecided between tears and laughter. “Oh, Grant, GRANT! + She'll think you're ready to murder everybody on the ranch—and you + can be such a nice boy when you want to be! I did hope—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to be nice,” Grant objected, drawing a match along a fairly + smooth rock. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wanted you to appear at your best; and, instead of that, here you + come, squabbling with old Hagar like—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—sure. But who is the timid lady?” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + Wally Hart came back, laughing to himself. + </p> + <p> + “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 alive—she 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, mum—she + said so. You're kay bueno yourself, because you take Good Indian's part. + We're all kay bueno—all 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 yuh do to her, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + “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 + days—if 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 + Viney, So I just led him gently to camp.” + </p> + <p> + 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 wikiup—and one sniff seemed to + be about all he wanted. He didn't hurt anything.” + </p> + <p> + He took a meditative bite of cake, finished the buttermilk in three + rapturous swallows, and bethought him of the feminine mystery. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, Mother Hart, who was that Christmas angel I squashed?” + </p> + <p> + “Vad? Was Vad in on it, mum? I never saw her.” Wally straightened up with + a fresh chunk of cake in his hand. “Was she scared?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” his mother admitted reluctantly, “I guess she was, all right. First + the squaws—and, poor girl, I made her shake hands all round—and + then Grant here, acting like a wild hyena—” + </p> + <p> + “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 I should have appeared at my best. But who she is, or where she + belongs—” + </p> + <p> + “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 + her—and 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 stranger—a + girl especially. And I did hope Grant would behave better.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, he ought to. Us boneheads don't know any better—but Grant's + EDUCATED.” Wally grinned and winked elaborately at his mother's back. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not educated up to Christmas angels that look as if they'd been + stepped on,” Grant defended himself. + </p> + <p> + “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 months or so, you wouldn't know + the girl,” Phoebe argued, with some heat. + </p> + <p> + “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 war-whoop outa me, she'd look at me—the 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. + </p> + <p> + “You never liked anything that wore skirts,” Phoebe flung after him + indignantly; and she came very close to the truth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 thing—but + 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 nice—she's + most too nice. I've got to give that girl a good talking to.” + </p> + <p> + She mounted the steps to the back porch, tried the 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 + next. + </p> + <p> + “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 old-fashioned 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 brown-and-white calico dress close + about her plump person, and crawled grimly through into the sitting-room, + where, to the distress of Phoebe's order-loving soul, the carpet was daily + well-sanded with the tread of boys' boots fresh from outdoors, and where + cigarette stubs decorated every window-sill, and the stale odor of + Peaceful's pipe was never long absent. + </p> + <p> + 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 good-natured threats of various sorts, had never before barred the way + of any man, be he red or white, came he at noon or at midnight. + </p> + <p> + 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 + pillow. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + There was the sound of something heavy being dragged laboriously away from + the barricaded door; and in a minute a vividly blue eye appeared at a + narrow crack. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't see how you dare to L-LIVE in such a place, Aunt Phoebe!” she + cried tearfully, opening the door a bit wider. “Those Indians—and + that awful man—” + </p> + <p> + “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 gentle—it's + all they lack, and it takes gentle women, honey—” + </p> + <p> + “I am gentle,” Evadna protested grievedly. “I've never once forgotten to + be gentle and quiet, and I haven't done a thing to them—but they're + horrid and rough, anyway—” + </p> + <p> + “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 you—I 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. You—you'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!” + </p> + <p> + 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 + with a moist ball of handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “I know they don't, honey.” Phoebe patted her hand reassuringly. “That's + what I want you to help me teach my boys—to be real gentlemen. + They're pure gold, every one of them; but I can't deny they're pretty + rough on the outside sometimes. And I hope you will be—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know. I understand perfectly. You just got me out here as a—a + sort of sandpaper for your boys' manners!” Evadna choked over a little sob + of self-pity. “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 + sensitive, because he feels his loneliness. No one understands him as I do—” + </p> + <p> + “I hate him!” gritted Evadna, in an emphatic whisper which her Aunt Phoebe + thought it wise not to seem to hear. + </p> + <p> + 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 bed. + </p> + <p> + “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 you'll not disappoint her. You'll try; won't you, + Vadnie?” + </p> + <p> + “Y—yes,” 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 + none—there wasn't anything mushy about them that I ever heard of.” + </p> + <p> + “Mushy! MUSHY!” Evadna sat up and stared at nothing at all while she + repeated the word under her breath. “She wants me to be gentle—she + preached gentleness in her letters, and told how her boys need it, and + then—she calls it being MUSHY!” + </p> + <p> + She reached mechanically for her hair-brush, and fumbled in a tumbled mass + of shining, yellow hair quite as unbelievable in its way as were her eyes—Grant + had shown a faculty for observing keenly when he called her a Christmas + angel—and 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 frankness, “and + tarantulas and snakes—but—MUSHY!” + </p> + <p> + Grant stood smoking in the doorway of the sitting-room, 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 + walked straight over to him. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Please don't tease the animals,” Grant returned, in the same impersonal + tone which she had seen fit to employ—but his eyes turned for a + sidelong glance at her, although he appeared to be watching the trout rise + lazily to the insects skimming over the surface of the water. + </p> + <p> + “I'm supposed to be nice to you—par-TIC-ularly nice—because + 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 you—I 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 dislike you all the time.” + </p> + <p> + Grant's lips twitched, and there was a covert twinkle in his eyes, though + he looked around him with elaborate surprise. + </p> + <p> + “It's early in the day for mosquitoes,” he drawled; “but I was sure I + heard one buzzing somewhere close.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Phoebe ought to get a street roller to smooth your manners,” Evadna + observed pointedly. + </p> + <p> + “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 benefited—his teeth will be dulled for his prey, his + voice softened for the nightcry—if he should ever, by chance, + discover that the Christmas angel is there.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Grant turned his head indolently and regarded her. + </p> + <p> + “If it isn't a Christmas angel—they're always very blue and very + golden, and pinky-whitey—if 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 beyond his solving, and flicked the ashes from his cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I could pinch you!” She gritted her teeth to prove she meant what she + said. + </p> + <p> + “It says it could pinch me.” Grant lazily addressed the trout. “I wonder + why it didn't, then, when it was being squashed?” + </p> + <p> + “I just wish to goodness I had! Only I suppose Aunt Phoebe—” + </p> + <p> + “I do believe it's got a temper. I wonder, now, if it could be a LIVE + angel?” Grant spoke to the softly swaying poplars. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you—there 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 + whether I'm alive!” she panted vindictively. + </p> + <p> + “It's alive, and it's a humming-bird. 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 humming-birds—so simple and so harmless!” + </p> + <p> + “And I've promised to be nice to—THAT!” cried Evadna, in bitterness, + and rushed past him to the porch. + </p> + <p> + 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, and landed lightly upon her slippered feet. + </p> + <p> + “I hate you—hate you—HATE YOU!” she cried, her eyes blazing up + at his amused face before she ran off among the trees. + </p> + <p> + “It sings a sweet little song,” he taunted, and his laughter followed her + mockingly as she fled from him into the shadows. + </p> + <p> + “What's the joke, Good Injun? Tell us, so we can laugh too.” Wally and + Jack hurried in from the kitchen and made for the doorway where he stood. + </p> + <p> + 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 + as a sleepy bird's fluttering wings. + </p> + <p> + “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 grove, “we certainly did go some!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. “I DON'T CARE MUCH ABOUT GIRLS” + </h2> + <p> + “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 trouble—and, besides, they're scared of dad. I was + talking to Sleeping Turtle just now—met him down there past the + Point o' Rocks.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “If we could kidnap her—say, I wonder if we couldn't!” Clark looked + at the others tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “Good Injun might do the rescue act and square himself with her for what + happened at the milk-house,” Wally suggested dryly. + </p> + <p> + “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 the dead, she did!” + </p> + <p> + “Kill the traitor! Down with him! Curses on the man who betrays us!” + growled Wally, waving his cigarette threateningly. + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Gene and Clark seized the offender by heels and shoulders, and + with a brief, panting struggle heaved him bodily off the porch. + </p> + <p> + “Over the cliff he goes—so may all traitors perish!” Wally declaimed + approvingly, drawing up his legs hastily out of the way of Jack's + clutching fingers. + </p> + <p> + “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 + supper—and, 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 blanket, and to have one right at her + elbow—wonder where she is—” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “You forget,” Grant interrupted him ironically, “that she's going to make + gentlemen of us all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes—sure. Jack's coming down with it already. You oughta be + quarantined, old-timer; that's liable to be catching.” Wally snorted his + disdain of the whole proceeding. “I'd rather go to jail myself.” + </p> + <p> + Evadna by a circuitous route had reached the sitting-room 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 hard together. She did not look, at that moment, in the least + degree “mushy.” + </p> + <p> + When the triangle clanged its supper call, however, she came slowly down + from her favorite nook at the head of the pond, her hands filled with + flowers hastily gathered in the dusk. + </p> + <p> + “Here she comes—let'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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + sugar-bowl was going after, when she settled herself and her ruffles + daintily between Grant and a braided, green-blanketed, dignifiedly + loquacious Indian. + </p> + <p> + 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 + sugar-bowl 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. All 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 more—kay 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 wachee-typo” (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 of an affectation with + Peppajee. + </p> + <p> + “My brother, my brother's wife, my brother's wife's—ah—” 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 tea—ketchum + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it a shame they should do that,” she murmured sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “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.” Evadna + blushed, and looked studiously at her plate. + </p> + <p> + “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 tea—them folks all time eatum + grub, me no ketchum. Me no playum cards, all same otha fella ketchum my + grub. Kay bueno. Better me playum cards mebbyso all time. + </p> + <p> + “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'—” + </p> + <p> + 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 old-fashioned, silver castor which always stood in + the exact center of the table. + </p> + <p> + 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 face + aslant. It was Good Indian who rebuked the offender. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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, + whose grin was growing rather pronounced. + </p> + <p> + “Huh. Mebbyso you boss all same this ranch?” Peppajee retorted sourly. + “Mebbyso Peacefu' tellum, him no likum.” + </p> + <p> + Peaceful, thus drawn into the discussion, cleared his throat again. + </p> + <p> + “Wel-l-l—WE 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 bad, Peppajee.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh. Me no makum squaw-talk.” Peppajee laid down his knife, lifted a + corner of his blanket, and drew it slowly across his stern mouth. He + muttered a slighting sentence in Indian. + </p> + <p> + 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 away + from the dogged silence of that blanketed figure at her elbow. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She sat up, and waited defensively. More baiting, without a doubt—and + 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 by the + arm. In the half—light she knew him then. It was Grant. + </p> + <p> + “Come over by the pond,” he said, in what was almost a command. “I want to + talk to you a little.” + </p> + <p> + “Does it occur to you that I might not want to talk t to you?” Still, she + let him help her to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “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 the porch, as usual, in a minute; so hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope it's something very important,” Evadna hinted ungraciously. + “Nothing else would excuse this high-handed proceeding.” + </p> + <p> + When they had reached the great rock where the pond had its outlet, and + where was a rude seat hidden away in a clump of young willows just across + the bridge, he answered her. + </p> + <p> + “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 favor—I + 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 things—a + savage among the rest—I don't like to feel such a brute as to make + war on a girl that seems to be getting it handed to her right along.” + </p> + <p> + He tardily lighted his cigarette and sat smoking beside her, the tiny glow + lighting his face briefly now and then. + </p> + <p> + “When I was joshing you there before supper,” he went on, speaking low + that he might not be overheard—and ridiculed—from 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, why—common + humanity forces me to apologize and tell you I'm out of it from now on.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Thank you very much.” Evadna's tone might be considered ironical. “I + suppose I ought to say that your statement lessens my dislike of you—” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all.” Grant interrupted her. “Go right ahead and hate me, if you + feel that way. It won't matter to me—girls never did concern me + much, one way or the other. I never was susceptible to beauty, and that + seems to be a woman's trump card, always—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, upon my word!” + </p> + <p> + “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 that—my sympathies are always with the under dog, + anyway, and they're five to one. But that needn't mean that I'm—that + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 + other—you from 'common humanity,' and I because I promised Aunt + Phoebe.” + </p> + <p> + “We-e-l!—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 fight back—the man who + won't isn't a normal human being.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon; the woman didn't,” he corrected blandly. “The woman + insisted on scrapping. That's different.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's different! I see. I have almost forgotten something I ought to + say, Mr. Imsen. I must thank you for—well, for defending me to that + Indian.” + </p> + <p> + “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 account, in particular.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see.” She rose rather suddenly from the bench. “It wasn't even + common humanity, then—” + </p> + <p> + “Not even common humanity,” he echoed affirmatively. “Just a chance I + couldn't afford to pass up, of digging into Peppajee.” + </p> + <p> + “That's different.” She laughed shortly and left him, running swiftly + through the warm dusk to the murmur of voices at the house. + </p> + <p> + 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 + moment up at the treetops swaying languidly just under the stars. + </p> + <p> + “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 consider the matter very serious, after all. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL PLAYS GHOST + </h2> + <p> + At midnight, the Peaceful Hart ranch lay broodily quiet under its + rock-rimmed bluff. Down in the stable the saddle-horses were but formless + blots upon the rumpled bedding in their stalls—except Huckleberry, + the friendly little pinto with the white eyelashes and the blue eyes, and + the great, liver-colored 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 silent ranch. + </p> + <p> + 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 half-heartedly at + an early mosquito that was humming in his ear. He reached out, and jogged + the shoulder of him who snored. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Gene, if you've got to sleep at the top of your voice, you better + drag your bed down into the orchard,” he growled. “Let up a little, can't + yuh?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, shut up and let a fellow sleep!” mumbled Gene, snuggling the covers + up to his ears. + </p> + <p> + “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 can't—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah-h-EE-EE!” 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. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” The two jerked themselves to a sitting position, and stared + into the blackness of the grove. + </p> + <p> + “Bobcat,” whispered Clark, in a tone which convinced not even himself. + </p> + <p> + “In a pig's ear,” flouted Gene, under his breath. He leaned far over and + poked his finger into a muffled form. “D'yuh hear that noise, Grant?” + </p> + <p> + Grant sat up instantly. “What's the matter?” he demanded, rather + ill-naturedly, if the truth be told. + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear anything—a funny noise, like—” + </p> + <p> + 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 nerve-wrackingly, and then wailed mournfully down to silence. + Afterward, while their ears were still strained to the sound, the bobcat + squalled an answer from among the rocks. + </p> + <p> + “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 you going to do about it?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The moon climbed higher, and sent silvery splinters of light quivering + down among the trees. A frog crawled out upon a great lily—pad and + croaked dismally. + </p> + <p> + 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 deep-throated ARR-RR-UMPH 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 freed + himself stealthily from a blanketfold. + </p> + <p> + “If that spook don't talk Indian when it's at home, I'm very much + mistaken,” he whispered to Clark, who was nearest. “You boys stay here.” + </p> + <p> + 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 shadow-flecked patch of moonlight. + Crouching low in the shade of a clump of bushes, Grant stole toward the + spot. + </p> + <p> + 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. Once more he heard the dismal cry, and fancied it held a mocking note. + </p> + <p> + “I'll settle that mighty quick,” he promised grimly, as he jumped a ditch + and ran toward the place. + </p> + <p> + 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 there—he could feel them. But he hadn't a + match with him, and the place was in deep shade. + </p> + <p> + He stood up and listened, thought he heard a faint sound farther along, + and ran. There was no use now in going quietly; what counted most was + speed. + </p> + <p> + 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 catch some sound to guide + him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, anyhow, I didn't kill him,” he muttered uneasily as he crawled + through a fence into the orchard. “He's making a pretty swift get-away for + a fellow that's been shot.” + </p> + <p> + 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 a little. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you float over the treetops?” he panted ironically. “Ghosts + have no business getting their spirit raiment tangled up in a barbed-wire + fence.” + </p> + <p> + 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. They stared at each other, breathing hard from more than the race + they had run. + </p> + <p> + “Well—I'll—be—” Grant began, in blank amazement. + </p> + <p> + She wriggled her chin in his palm, trying to free herself from his + pitiless staring. Failing that, she began to sob angrily without any tears + in her wide eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You—shot me, you brute!” she cried accusingly at last. “You—SHOT + me!” And she sobbed again. + </p> + <p> + Before he answered, he drew backward a step or two, sat down upon the edge + of a rock which had rolled out from a stone-heap, and pulled her down + beside him, still holding her fast, as if he half believed her capable of + soaring away over the treetops, after all. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I didn't murder you—from the chase you gave me. Did I hit + you at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you did! You nearly broke my arm—and you might have killed me, + you big brute! Look what you did—and 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 hole right through Aunt Phoebe's sheet!” she + added, with tearful severity. + </p> + <p> + He caught her arm, bent his head over it—and 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 lifted it again, and regarded the wound with + mournful interest. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Just as much right as you have to get up in the middle of the night and + go ahowling all over the ranch wrapped up in a sheet,” he retorted + ungallantly. + </p> + <p> + “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, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me what you DID do it for? Of all the silly tomfoolery—” + </p> + <p> + An impish smile quite obliterated the Christmas-angel look for an instant, + then vanished, and left her a pretty, abused maiden who is grieved at + harsh treatment. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wanted to scare Gene,” she confessed. “I did, too. I just know + he's a cowardy-cat, because he's always trying to scare ME. It's Gene's + fault—he told me the grove is haunted. He said a long time ago, + before Uncle Hart settled here, a lot of Indians waylaid a wagon-train + 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 around—only 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. + </p> + <p> + “My best friend TOLD me I'd get shot if I came to Idaho,” she reminded + herself, with a melancholy satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 girls—you 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 choose—and 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 like a white man.” + </p> + <p> + “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 up—the INDIAN?” + </p> + <p> + She cast a swift, half-frightened glance up into his face and the eyes + that glowed ominously in the moonlight. + </p> + <p> + “When people make the blunder of calling up the Indian,” he went on + steadily, “they usually find that they have to deal with—the + Indian.” + </p> + <p> + Evadna looked at him again, and turned slowly white before her temper + surged to the surface again. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't call up the Indian,” she defended hotly; “but if the Indian + wants to deal with me according to his nature—why, 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 were sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not in the habit of saying all I think and feel.” + </p> + <p> + “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, you—you—well, you act like the savage you are! + There, now! It may not be nice to say it, but it's the truth.” + </p> + <p> + 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 Indian—because my mother was a + half-breed.” 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 eyes, and softened. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you're a girl, and you demand the usual amount of poor-pussy 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 well—and I'm not a kissing + young man, either, let me tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + As the wires snapped into place, she halted and looked back at him. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I've been mean—but you're been meaner,” she summed up, in + self-justification. “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 to—tell. 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. + </p> + <p> + Grant did not follow. He stood leaning against the fence-post, 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. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes, ten minutes, he stood there, staring across the level bit of + valley lying quiet at the foot of the jagged-rimmed bluff standing boldly + up against the star-flecked sky. Then he shook himself impatiently, + muttered something which had to do with a “doddering fool,” and retraced + his steps quickly through the orchard, the currant bushes, and the + strawberry patch, jumped the ditch, and so entered the grove and returned + to his blankets. + </p> + <p> + “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 shoot—what was it? Did you find + out?” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't anything,” said Grant shortly, tugging at a boot. + </p> + <p> + “Ah—there was, too! What was it you shot at?” Clark joined in the + argument from the blackness under the locust tree. + </p> + <p> + “The moon,” Grant told him sullenly. “There wasn't anything else that I + could see.” + </p> + <p> + “And that's a lie,” Gene amended, with the frankness of a foster-brother. + “Something yelled like—” + </p> + <p> + “You never heard a screech-owl before, did you, Gene?” Grant crept between + his blankets and snuggled down, as if his mind held nothing more important + than sleep. + </p> + <p> + “Screech-owl my granny! You bumped into something you couldn't handle—if + you want to know what <i>I</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 was it?” + </p> + <p> + He waited a moment without getting a reply. + </p> + <p> + “Well, keep your teeth shut down on it, then, darn yuh!” he growled. + “That's the Injun of it—I know YOU! Screech-owl—huh! You said + when you left it was an Indian—and 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 you—and if there was one acting up around here, we knew + blamed well it was on your account for what happened to-day. 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 get—and that's saying a whole lot. If + it WAS an Indian, and you killed him, you better let us—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, for the lord's sake, WILL YOU SHUT UP!” Grant raised to an elbow, + glared a moment, and lay down again. + </p> + <p> + The result proved the sort of fellow he was. Clark shut up without even + trailing off into mumbling to himself, as was his habit when argument + brought him defeat. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. MISS GEORGIE HOWARD, OPERATOR + </h2> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “WHAT—happened last night?” Evadna wore her Christmas-angel + expression; and her tone was the sweet, insipid tone of childlike + innocence. + </p> + <p> + 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 it. + </p> + <p> + “There was a noise when the moon had just come up—didn'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 fight when he came back, and he's pulled out this morning—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to tell me—did you see it, really?” + </p> + <p> + “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 winced + perceptibly. “What yuh jumping for? You didn't see anything, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but—was there REALLY something?” Evadna freed herself as + unobtrusively as possible, and looked at him with wide eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You ask Clark. He'll tell you—maybe. Good Injun's scared clean off + the ranch—you 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 it. They believe in spirits and signs and things.” + </p> + <p> + Evadna turned thoughtful. “And didn't he tell you what he—that is, + if he found out—you said he went after it—” + </p> + <p> + “He wouldn't say a blamed thing about it,” Gene complained sincerely. “He + said there wasn't anything—he told us it was a screech-owl.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” Evadna gave a sigh of relief. “Well, I'm going to ask Clark what it + was—I'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 there—without + even your mother with you!” + </p> + <p> + She smiled the credulous smile of ignorant innocence and pulled the gate + open. + </p> + <p> + “Jack promised to take me up to Hartley to-day,” 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 perambulations entirely to the conventional midnight + hour.” + </p> + <p> + Gene did not make any reply. Indeed, he seemed wholly absorbed in staring + after her and wondering just how much or how little of it she meant. + </p> + <p> + 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 herself with the simple, unqualified statement + that she was glad of it. + </p> + <p> + 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 post-office + 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 tolerance. + </p> + <p> + “When you get ready to go home, you can come to the store,” he said + bluntly. “Huckleberry wouldn't stand here if you hog-tied him. Just + remember that if you ever ride up here alone—it might save you a + walk back. And say,” he added, with a return of his good-natured grin, “it + looks like you and Good Injun didn't get acquainted yesterday. I thought I + saw mum give him an introduction to you—but I guess I made a + mistake. When you come to the store, don't let me forget, and I'll do it + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, Jack—but it isn't necessary,” chirped Evadna, and + left him with the smile which he had come to regard with vague suspicion + of what it might hide of her real feelings. + </p> + <p> + Two squaws sat cross-legged 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 by Miss + Georgie Howard, then in one of her daily periods of intense boredom. + </p> + <p> + “My, my, but you're an angel of deliverance—and 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 interesting,” she added + musingly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let me interrupt you,” Evadna began primly. “I only came for a + money order—Aunt Phoebe's sending for—” + </p> + <p> + “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 mentally—only I've tagged + you long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were the express agent. Aunt Phoebe said—” + </p> + <p> + “Nice, truthful Aunt Phoebe! I am, but I'm out—officially. I'm + several things, my dear; but, for the sake of my own dignity and + self-respect, 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 agent. I admit it. But + this isn't one of the times.” + </p> + <p> + 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 way—I'm not anything official right now. I'm a + neighbor, and this is my parlor—you 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 the agent is out.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, upon my word!” Evadna permitted herself that much emotional relief. + Then she leaned her head against the cherry-colored head-rest tied to the + chair with huge, cherry-colored bows, and took a deliberate survey of the + room. + </p> + <p> + 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 small-paned windows + gave one sitting before the 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, “Express Office: Hours, 8 A.M. to 6 P.M.” + on a card above it. + </p> + <p> + Under a small window opening upon the platform was another little table, + with indications of occasional ticket-selling 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 sewing-basket, 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. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. You have it sized up correctly, my dear.” Miss Georgie Howard + nodded her—head three times, and her eyes were mirthful. “It's a + game. I made it a game. I had to, in self-defense. 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 yourself holding it down for longer than a week? + I've been here a month.” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” Evadna ventured, “it must be fun.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. It's fun—if 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 chair, “it will illustrate just how I manage my system.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “OUT. WILL BE BACK LATER.” + </p> + <p> + 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 box—the five pounds of chocolates which she had sent for. + </p> + <p> + “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 stand—and for Heaven's sake, gossip a little! Tell me all about + that bunch of nifty lads I see cavorting around the store occasionally—and + especially about the polysyllabic gentleman who seems to hang out at the + Peaceful Hart ranch. I'm terribly taken with him. He—excuse me, + chicken. There's a fellow down the line hollering his head off. Wait till + I see what he wants.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 + “parlor” breathing quickly. + </p> + <p> + “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 + they were saying—but I couldn't even guess.” + </p> + <p> + 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 + sometimes—in self-defense. There are two or three fresh young men + along the line that can't seem to take a hint unless you knock them in the + head with it.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + She poked investigatingly among the chocolates, and finally selected a + delectable morsel with epicurean care. + </p> + <p> + “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 store—ah—” 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 + failure—um—'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, would—or could—say that without studying + it first. It sounded awfully impromptu and easy—and yet he looks—well, + cowboyish. What sort of a young man is he?” + </p> + <p> + “He's a perfectly horrid young man.” Evadna leaned to help herself to more + chocolates. “He—well, just to show you how horrid, he calls me a—a + Christmas angel! And—” + </p> + <p> + “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 office—I'd know his touch + among a million—and 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 + whimsically. “What's that card for, I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + She threw the switch, rattled a reply, and then, as the sounder settled + down to a steady click-clickety-click-click, 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 weak-eyed, hollow-chested 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 receipt-book, + 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 would you rather stay here? I won't be more than two minutes.” + </p> + <p> + She was gone five; and she returned with a preoccupied air which lasted + until she had disposed of three chocolates and was carefully choosing a + fourth. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I know he's perfectly lovely,” Evadna asserted warmly. “And so is Aunt + Phoebe.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure.” Miss Georgie smiled indulgently. “I quite agree with you. + And by the way, I met that polysyllabic cowboy again—and 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 human in the least like him. Did you? So + absolutely—ah—inscrutable, let us say.” + </p> + <p> + “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 me—told + me, mind you—that he doesn't like women. He actually warned me + against thinking his politeness—if he ever is polite, which I doubt—means + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “I'd certainly see that he repented, apologized, and vowed eternal + devotion,” smiled Miss Georgie. “That should be my revenge.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want any revenge. I simply want nothing to do with him. I don't + want to speak to him, even.” + </p> + <p> + “He's awfully good—looking,” mused Miss Georgie. + </p> + <p> + “He looks to me just like an Indian. He ought to wear a blanket, like the + rest.” + </p> + <p> + “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 love—and never give up; + unless the loved one disappointed him in some way; and then he'd be strong + enough to go his way and not whine about it. I do hate a whiner! Don't + you?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 off—it's to go C.O.D. and make 'em repeat it, so as to be sure—” + </p> + <p> + “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 smoke-grimed window until a movement + warned her that he was through. + </p> + <p> + “Very well—that is all,” she said, after she had counted the words + twice. “Oh—you want to wait for the repeat.” + </p> + <p> + 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 + it down upon its form. + </p> + <p> + “There—if 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 leering grin at Miss Georgie. + </p> + <p> + 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 her pompadour, and finally laughed at + her own uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “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 + toad—or snake, or—ugh! And what does he mean—sending + twenty-word 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 wish—only it's unprofessional to talk about it—but, 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 messages.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe he's a detective,” Evadna hazarded. + </p> + <p> + “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. And—I 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 anything + more brutal than lick a postage stamp?” + </p> + <p> + “He might want to,” Evadna guessed shrewdly, “but it would be too much + trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” Miss Georgie went on speculating, “Saunders never does anything + that anyone ever heard of. Sweeps out the store, they say—but I'd + hate to swear to that. <i>I</i> never could catch it when it looked swept—and + 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 commenced coming to + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you turn detective yourself and find out?” Plainly, Evadna was + secretly laughing at her perturbed interest in the matter. + </p> + <p> + “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. And—couldn'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 thing—where I can't even hear a train whistle.” + </p> + <p> + “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 fishing—but + 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, there'd be two of us—” + </p> + <p> + “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 with—that'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 suppose—sixteen is about due. Excuse me, chicken.” + </p> + <p> + 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 + fish-basket slung from one shoulder, a trout rod carefully wrapped in its + case in his hand, a box which looked suspiciously like a case of some + bottled joy at his feet, and a loose-lipped smile upon his face. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Miss Georgie?” he called unctuously through the open door. + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie barely glanced at him from under her lashes, and her + shoulders indulged themselves in an almost imperceptible twitch. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Mr. Baumberger?” she responded coolly, and very, very + gently pushed the door shut just as he had made up his mind to enter. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. THE AMIABLE ANGLER + </h2> + <p> + Baumberger—Johannes was the name he answered to when any of his + family called, though to the rest of the world he was simply Baumberger—was + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 tussle with + that four-pounder he had lost last time. + </p> + <p> + “And I don't go back till I get him—not if I stay here a week,” he + declared, with jocular savagery. “Took half my leader and my pet fly—I + got him with a peacock-bodied gray hackle that I revised to suit my own + notions—and, by the great immortal Jehosaphat, he looked like a + whale when he jumped up clear of the riffle, turned over, and—” His + flabby, white hand made a soaring movement to indicate the manner in which + the four-pounder had vanished. + </p> + <p> + “Better take a day off and go with me, Pete,” he suggested, getting an + unwieldy-looking pipe from the pocket of his canvas fishing-coat, and + opening his eyes at a trout-fly 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 + fatuous to one who has no sporting blood in his veins. + </p> + <p> + “Last time I used that fly was when I was down here three weeks ago—the + 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 book—I + must be getting absent-minded. 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 up—a lawyer can't afford + to grow absent-minded. He's liable to wake up some day and find himself + without his practice.” + </p> + <p> + He got his fly-book 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 frail-looking five + inches of gut leader, and then returned the book fondly to the basket. + </p> + <p> + “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 of—ah—snake + medicine,” he hinted, chuckling so that the whole, deep chest of him + vibrated. “No? Well, you can let me have a horse, I suppose—that + cow-backed sorrel will do—he's gentle, I know. I think I'll go out + and beg an invitation from that Hart boy—never can remember those + kids by name—Gene, is it, or Jack?” + </p> + <p> + 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 after-thought, if Jack's mother had + company, or anything that would make his presence a burden. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody's there—and, if there was, it wouldn't matter,” Jack assured + him carelessly. “Go on down, if you want to. It'll be all right with + mother.” + </p> + <p> + “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 so—but + it's a fact, just the same. She sure is a genius with the frying-pan, my + boy.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + stable. + </p> + <p> + “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, Pete—and 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 days—maybe 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 grind—but 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 know—it's + the one I was talking to yuh about last time I was down. + </p> + <p> + “W-ell—I reckon my means of conveyance is ready for me—so + long, Peter, till Sunday. See you at supper, boys.” + </p> + <p> + He hooked a thumb under the shoulder-strap 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 of satisfaction with life which sets a + cat purring. + </p> + <p> + Some time later, he appeared, in the same jovial mood, at the Hart ranch, + and found there the welcome which he had counted upon—the welcome + which all men received there upon demand. + </p> + <p> + 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 fishing-basket 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 loose-lipped 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 well-being. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. PEPPAJEE JIM “HEAP SABES” + </h2> + <p> + 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 too-familiar dog + from him with a shove of moccasined foot, and stalked away through the + sagebrush. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + man-made 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 surface, once he + sets himself heart and muscle to the task. + </p> + <p> + With the deliberation of his race, Peppajee stood long minutes motionless, + gazing into the valley before he 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 + dust-ridden 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 sage-roots, + or patches of deep dust and sand beside the wagon-road, his sharp, + high-featured face set in the stony calm which may hide a tumult of + elemental passions beneath and give no sign. + </p> + <p> + 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 so was lost for that day. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Peppajee,” called Wally over his cigarette. “Just in time for + supper.” + </p> + <p> + 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 but his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Peppajee, this my friend, Mr. Baumberger. You heap sabe Baumberger—come + 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, had failed to find favor in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” grunted Peppajee non-commitally, and made no motion to shake hands, + thereby confirming Peaceful's suspicion. “Me heap sabe + Man-that-catchum-fish.” 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. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Peppajee. Bimeby eat supper,” Peaceful invited pacifically, + while Baumberger chuckled at the Indian's attitude, which he attributed to + racial stupidity. + </p> + <p> + Peppajee did not even indicate that he heard or, hearing, understood. + </p> + <p> + “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 watchdogs—they'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 have some influence with the agent.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you needn't go to any trouble about it,” Peaceful returned dryly. + “I've had worse neighbors.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—if 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 time-worn joke had met with disfavor, even by the boys, who + could—and usually did—laugh at almost anything. “They all look + alike to me, I must admit; I never had any truck with 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “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 snow-white beard with his free hand, pushed the pipe-stem between + his teeth, and went on smoking. + </p> + <p> + “I never liked the breed, any way you look at 'em,” Baumberger stated + calmly. + </p> + <p> + “Say, you'll queer yourself good and plenty, if you keep on,” Wally + interrupted bluntly. “Peppajee's ears aren't plugged with cotton—are + they, Jim?” + </p> + <p> + 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 he were glad to escape from the steady, uncompromising stare of the + Indian. + </p> + <p> + “Better come and eat, Peppajee,” Peaceful lingered upon the porch to urge + hospitably. “You no get mad. You come eat supper.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” Peppajee jerked the word out with unmistakable finality. “No eat. + Bimeby mebbyso makum big talk yo'.” + </p> + <p> + 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 as pleased him best. + </p> + <p> + 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 two. + </p> + <p> + “I talk yo'. Mebbyso no talk Man-with-big-belly.” He waited impassively. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Jim.” Peaceful turned apologetically toward his guest. + “Something he wants to tell me, Baumberger; kinda private, I guess. I'll + be back in a minute, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Now don't mind me at all,” Baumberger protested generously. “Go ahead + just as if I wasn't here—that'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 + pipe. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 boys—all time my frien'. Me speakum all time no + lie, mebbyso.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Peaceful assented unhesitatingly, “you no tell lies, Peppajee. We + good friends, many years.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh! Man-that-catchum-fish, him no yo' frien'. Shont-isham. All time him + speakum lies—tellum 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 time him likum steal yo' ranch.” + </p> + <p> + 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 sell—me + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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 Man-that-coughs, tellum him ketchum ranch. Much + white man come, so—” He lifted one hand with thumb and fingers + outspread, made a downward gesture, and then raised three fingers. + “Catchum ranch.” + </p> + <p> + 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 signs his exact + meaning. + </p> + <p> + Peppajee scowled, and shook his head stubbornly. “Me heap sabe. All same, + ketchum yo' ranch. Man-that-catchum-fish 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 odor of smoke from + Baumberger's pipe. + </p> + <p> + “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 + warning, and went back to talk politics with Baumberger. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. MIDNIGHT PROWLERS + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 half-dugout, + half-board 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 fellow-men 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 spring-fed 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 stable-door, shook his head in mute displeasure, and + went quietly on. As he neared the silent house, the faint creak of + saddle-leather and the rattle of spur-chains 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The grove was quiet, and he could hear Gene's unmistakable snore over by + the pond—the 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 laid—and 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 his eyes were not used to playing + him tricks. + </p> + <p> + 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 guarded challenge: + </p> + <p> + “Who's that?” + </p> + <p> + A figure detached itself without sound from the blot of darkness there, + and stood almost at his stirrup. + </p> + <p> + “Yo' Good Injun—me likum for talk yo'.” + </p> + <p> + Good Indian was conscious of a distinct disappointment, though he kept it + from his voice when he answered: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's you, Peppajee. What you do here? Why you no sleepum yo' wikiup?” + </p> + <p> + Peppajee held up a slim, brown hand for silence, and afterward rested it + upon the saddle-fork. + </p> + <p> + “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 he + led him back into the shadow of the rock. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what's the row?” Good Indian asked impatiently, and curiously as + well. + </p> + <p> + Peppajee spoke more hastily than was usual. “Me watchum + Man-that-catchum-fish. Him hee-eeap kay bueno. Me no sabe why him walk, + walk in night—me heap watchum.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Baumberger? He's all right. He comes down here to catchum many + fish—trout, up in the Malad, you sabe. Heap friend Peaceful. You no + likum?” + </p> + <p> + “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 stable—Pete + stable—me walkum close—no makum noise. Me hear talk. Stoppum—no + can see—me 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—” + </p> + <p> + “Baumberger?” suggested Grant. + </p> + <p> + “Him. All same Baumberga, him talk Man-that-coughs. 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 thinkum I lie—shont-isham!” + </p> + <p> + “What more you do?” Good Indian, at least, did not laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Me go camp. Me thinkum, thinkum all time. Dat man have bad heart. Kay + bueno. No can sleep—thinkum mebbyso do bad for Peaceful. Come ranch, + stop all time dark, all time heap watchum. Bimeby, mebbyso man—all + same yo' callum Baumberga—him 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 noise—kay 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 statue-like in the deep gloom beside the rock. + </p> + <p> + 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 ranch—the 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 the clanking Mexican spurs from + his heels, and touched Peppajee on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he murmured close to his ear, “we go see.” + </p> + <p> + Without a word, Peppajee turned, and stole away toward the meadows, + keeping always in the shadow of rock or bush, silent-footed as a prowling + bobcat. Close behind him, not quite so silent because of his riding-boots, + which would strike now and then upon a rock, however careful he was of his + footing, went Good Indian. + </p> + <p> + 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 Evadna—and 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 blackness of the grove. + </p> + <p> + 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 the + moon-bathed world around him. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What for you no stoppum stable?” he questioned bluntly. “What for you no + stoppum ranch, for sleepum?” + </p> + <p> + “I go for stoppum Hicks' ranch,” said Good Indian, without any attempt at + equivocation. + </p> + <p> + Peppajee grunted. “What for yo' no stoppum all same Peaceful?” + </p> + <p> + Good Indian scorned a subterfuge, and spoke truly. “That girl, Evadna, no + likum me. All time mad me. So I no stoppum ranch, no more.” + </p> + <p> + 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 rim-rock which guarded the bluff. + “All same, yo' no go stoppum Hicks,” he commanded. “Yo' stoppum dis ranch + all time. Yo' all time watchum man—yo' 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 Man-that-coughs. Me no + sabe catchum ranch—all same, me watchum. Them mans heap kay bueno. + Yo' bet yo' life!” + </p> + <p> + 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 positively that + there went Peppajee. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 fishing-tackle 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 the grove. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. “YOU CAN'T PLAY WITH ME” + </h2> + <p> + 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 appeared—which + was not at all. + </p> + <p> + What did interest him that morning was the changeful mood of Evadna; + though he kept his interest so well hidden that no one suspected it—not + 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 rigorous discipline of averted face and + frigid tones. + </p> + <p> + 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 pounce—he caught his breath. After that he was wary and + watchful and full of his purpose. + </p> + <p> + 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 standing beside the road, waving a flask. + </p> + <p> + “It's the cream for your coffee,” she cried, going to meet Evadna. “You + can slip it into your jacket-pocket, can't you, honey? Huckleberry is so + steady—and you won't do any wild riding like the boys.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 whip—a blow which would not have + perturbed a mosquito—when 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 attention—and that in spite of the + distinct shadow of her head and shoulders which lay at his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—Grant,” she began perfunctorily, “I'm sorry to trouble you—but + do you happen to have an empty pocket?” + </p> + <p> + 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 pocket before he so much as glanced toward her. + </p> + <p> + “I may have. Why?” He picked up the bridle-reins, caught the saddle-horn, + and thrust his toe into the stirrup. From under his hat-brim he saw that + she was pinching her under lip between her teeth, and the sight raised his + spirits considerably. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I'll carry it—I'm more used to packing bottles,” he announced + gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but if you must carry it in your hand, I wouldn't dream of—” + She was holding fast the bottle, and trying to wear her Christmas-angel + look. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian laid hold of the flask, and they stood there stubbornly eying + each other. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you wanted me to carry it,” he said at last, pulling harder. + </p> + <p> + “I merely asked if you had an empty pocket.” Evadna clung the tighter. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what's the use—” + </p> + <p> + “Just what I was thinking!” Evadna was so impolite as to interrupt him. + </p> + <p> + 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 + in her eyes a sign of weakening, he followed up the advantage he had + gained. + </p> + <p> + “Let go—because 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 set—which was not rapid, by any means. He watched her with + quick, sidelong glances, and wondered whether he would dare say what he + wanted to say—or at least a part of it. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I was not aware that I, at least, was acting the fool,” she retorted, + with a washed-out primness. + </p> + <p> + “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 + on the same ranch, we might as well be friends. What do you say?” + </p> + <p> + For a time he thought she was not going to say anything. She was staring + at the dust-cloud 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 words. + </p> + <p> + “You told me you didn't like me,” she reminded, looking at him briefly, + and afterward fumbling her reins. “You can't expect a girl—” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you don't remember coming up to me that first night, and + calling me names, and telling me how you hated me, and—and winding + up by pinching me?” he insinuated with hypocritical reproach, and felt of + his arm. “If you could see the mark—” he hinted shamelessly. + </p> + <p> + 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 minute,” she added, with virtuous solemnity. + </p> + <p> + “But you're not killed, and I'm not in jail.” + </p> + <p> + “And I haven't told a living soul about it—not even Aunt Phoebe,” + Evadna remarked, still painfully virtuous. “If I had—” + </p> + <p> + “She'd have wondered, maybe, what you were doing away down there in the + middle of the night,” Good Indian finished. “I didn't tell a soul, either, + for that matter.” + </p> + <p> + 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 an honest impulse of + friendliness. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm sure I'm willing to bury the tomahawk—er—that is, I + mean—” She blushed hotly at the slip, and stammered incoherently. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind.” His eyes laughed at her confusion. “I'm not as bad as all + that; it doesn't hurt my feelings to have tomahawks mentioned in my + presence.” + </p> + <p> + Her cheeks grew redder, if that were possible, but she made no attempt to + finish what she had started to say. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian rode silent, watching her unobtrusively and wishing he knew + how to bring the conversation by the most undeviating path to a certain + much-desired 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 that he + might face her squarely. + </p> + <p> + “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 he + repeated the question. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that? We've been digging into each other pretty + industriously, and saying how we hate each other—but are you willing + to drop it and be friends? It's for you to say—and you've got to say + it now.” + </p> + <p> + Evadna hung up her head at that. “Are you in the habit of laying down the + law to everyone who will permit it?” she evaded. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to take it for granted you meant what you said?” He stuck stubbornly + to the main issue. “Girls seem to have a way of saying things, whether + they mean anything or not. Did you?” + </p> + <p> + “Did I what?” She was wide-eyed innocence again. + </p> + <p> + 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 person who + goaded him further. He glanced at the girl sharply. + </p> + <p> + “This thing has got to be settled right now, without any more fooling or + beating about the bush,” he said—and 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. + </p> + <p> + “Settle it then, why don't you?” she taunted sweetly. “I'm sure I haven't + the faintest idea what there is to settle—in that solemn manner. I + only know we're a mile behind the others, and Miss Georgie will be + wondering—” + </p> + <p> + “You say I'm to settle it, the way I want it settled?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 gazed sternly into + her frightened eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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 or—hate 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “We've only known each other a week!” she cried tremulously, while her + gloved fingers felt inquiringly for loosened hairpins. “You've no right—you're + perfectly horrid! You take everything for granted—” + </p> + <p> + Good Indian laughed at her, a laugh of pure, elemental joy in life and in + love. + </p> + <p> + “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 am—the 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.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't! I couldn't help myself. You—oh, I never saw such a—a + 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 the outrage. + </p> + <p> + 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 to play a five-dollar gold piece he had in his hand and + quit. + </p> + <p> + “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 me—they'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 conchos—you 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 pocket + for a match. + </p> + <p> + “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 straight—I did once, and I + never got over it, I guess. I was going to pinch down to ten—but I + didn't; I let her ride. And SHOT CRAPS!” + </p> + <p> + He drew the match along the stamped saddle-skirt behind the cantle, + because that gave him a chance to steal a look behind him without being + caught in the act. Good, wide hat-brims 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 it—yet. 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. + </p> + <p> + “What did you do then?” asked Gene. + </p> + <p> + “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 craps—sixes, that time—sent + 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 craps—say, + 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.” + </p> + <p> + So for a time he managed to avoid facing squarely this new and very + important factor which must henceforth have its place in the problem of + his life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. “THEM DAMN SNAKE” + </h2> + <p> + 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 + fly-book, 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. + </p> + <p> + “Keep back from that hole, will yuh?” he muttered, jerking his head toward + the still pool. “I ain't tried it yet.” + </p> + <p> + 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 fishing-coat, 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 attention, + and stayed him for a few minutes to watch. + </p> + <p> + Loosely disreputable looked Lawyer Baumberger, from the snagged hole in + his hat-crown where a wisp of graying hair fluttered through, to the toes + of his ungainly, rubber-clad 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 pool. + </p> + <p> + 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 half-snarl, half-involuntary + contraction of muscles sympathetically tense. + </p> + <p> + 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 life—had Good Indian—and had found joy in the + sport. And here was he inwardly condemning a sportsman who stood + self-revealed, 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 felt + it nevertheless. + </p> + <p> + “Brute!” he muttered aloud, his face eloquent of cold disgust. + </p> + <p> + At that moment Baumberger drew the tired fish gently into the shallows, + swung him deftly upon the rocks, and laid hold of him greedily. + </p> + <p> + “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 + larger one of the little scales he carried inside his basket. + </p> + <p> + “Pound and four ounces,” he announced, and slid the fish into his basket. + He was the ordinary, good-natured, gross Baumberger now. He reached for + his pipe, placed it in his mouth, and held out a hand to Good Indian for a + match. + </p> + <p> + “Say, young fella, have you got any stand-in with your noble red + brothers?” he asked, after he had sucked life into the charred tobacco. + </p> + <p> + “Cousins twice or three times removed, you mean,” said Good Indian coldly, + too proud and too lately repelled to meet the man on friendly ground. “Why + do you ask?” + </p> + <p> + Baumberger eyed him speculatively while he smoked, and chuckled to + himself. + </p> + <p> + “One of 'em—never mind placing him on his own p'ticular limb of the + family tree—has 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 that—thought maybe he was + hunting or going fishing—but he's been sneakin' around behind me + ever since. I don't reckon he's after my scalp—not enough hair to + pay—but I'd like to know what the dickens he does mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing probably,” Good Indian told him shortly, his eyes nevertheless + searching the rocks for a sight of the watcher. + </p> + <p> + “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 sun-ridden + 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 head—looked + to me like the surly buck that blew in to the ranch the night I came; Jim + something-or-other. By the great immortal Jehosaphat!” he swore + humorously, “I'd like to tie him up in his dirty blanket and heave him + into the river—only it would kill all the fish in the Malad.” + </p> + <p> + Good Indian laughed. + </p> + <p> + “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 + one there.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go up and take a look,” Good Indian offered carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wish you would. I can't keep my mind on m' fishing—just + 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 + remembered to ask as he prepared for another cast into the pool. + </p> + <p> + “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 on down.” + </p> + <p> + 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 think. + </p> + <p> + He climbed negligently, scattering loose rocks down the hill behind him. + He had no expectation of coming upon Peppajee—unless Peppajee + deliberately put himself in his way—and so there was no need of + caution. He stopped once, and stood long minutes with his head turned to + catch the faint sound of high-keyed laughter and talk which drifted up to + him. If he went higher, he thought, he might get a glimpse of them—of + her, to tell his thought honestly. Whereupon he forgot all about finding + and expostulating with Peppajee, and thought only a point of the ridge + which would give him a clear view downstream. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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, + looking for a betraying bit of color or dirty gray hat-crown. + </p> + <p> + “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 depended + upon reaching as soon as possible the broader sweep of the Snake. + </p> + <p> + 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 hat-brim down over his right eye and + ear to shield them from the burn of the sun, and went picking his way idly + over to the place. + </p> + <p> + “HUL-lo!” he greeted, in the manner of one who refuses to acknowledge the + seriousness of a situation which confronts him suddenly. “What's the + excitement?” + </p> + <p> + 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 hunting-knife 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 it—for 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 ankle-bone, and from there drip-dropped into a + tiny, red pool in the barren, yellow soil. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Huh!” grunted Peppajee, disdaining further speech upon the subject, and + regarded sourly the red drip. + </p> + <p> + “Want me to suck it?” ventured Good Indian unenthusiastically, eying the + wound. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + So, while Good Indian stood and looked on with lips as tightly drawn as + the other's, he seared a circle around the wound—a 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 hiding-place + beneath his blanket. Then he picked up his moccasin. + </p> + <p> + “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 considers that he has been hardly used. + </p> + <p> + “How you get home?” Good Indian's thoughts swung round to practical + things. “You got horse?” + </p> + <p> + Peppajee shook his head, reached for his knife, and slit the moccasin till + it was no more than a wrapping. “Mebbyso heap walk,” he stated simply. + </p> + <p> + “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 fish—no more.” He waved his hand toward the + Malad. “Baumberger bueno—catchum fish—no more.” + </p> + <p> + Peppajee got slowly and painfully upon his feet—rather, upon one + foot. When Good Indian held out a steadying arm, he accepted it, and + leaned rather heavily. + </p> + <p> + “Yo' eyes sick,” said Peppajee, and grinned sardonically. “Yo' eyes see + all time Squaw-with-sun-hair. Fillum yo' eyes, yo' see notting. Yo' + catchum squaw, bimeby mebbyso see plenty mo'. Me no catchum sick eye. + Mebbyso me see heap plenty.” + </p> + <p> + “What you see, you all time watchum Baumberger?” + </p> + <p> + 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 + swayed languidly the smaller branches of the nearby trees. + </p> + <p> + Only Donny was there, sitting disgruntled upon the most comfortable rock + he could find, sulking because the others had taken all the fishing-tackle + that was of any account, and had left him to make shift with one bent, + dulled hook, a lump of fat pork, and a dozen feet of line. + </p> + <p> + “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 snag lines and lose leaders and + hooks, and giggle alla squeal. Aw—DARN girls!” + </p> + <p> + “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 snake-bite. + I'll be back before you get ready to go home.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm ready to go home right now,” growled Donny, sinking his chin between + his two palms. “But I guess the walkin' ain't all taken up.” + </p> + <p> + 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 well-defined 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 Huckleberry, and so got Peppajee mounted and headed toward camp. + </p> + <p> + “You tell Jack I borrowed his saddle and Huckleberry,” he called out to + the drooping little figure on the rock. “But I'll get back before they + want to go home.” + </p> + <p> + 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 misunderstanding and fruitless speculation upon the part + of Evadna. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. CLOUD-SIGN VERSUS CUPID + </h2> + <p> + 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 sensation-seekers + would scarcely put himself in the way of that particular experience. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the desolation of the old placer-pits, 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, he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “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 snake-bitten + foot. “Snake bite, make all time much hurt.” His eyes turned, and dwelt + sharply upon the face of Good Indian. + </p> + <p> + “Yo' all time thinkum Squaw-with-sun-hair. 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 same rattlesnake sleepum in sun. Kay bueno.” + </p> + <p> + Good Indian jerked his mind back from delicious recollection of one sweet, + swift-passing minute, and half opened his lips for reply. But he did not + speak; he did not know what to say, and it is ill-spent time—that + 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 + away to the west. + </p> + <p> + “Las' night, sun go sleepum. Clouds come all same blanket, sun wrappum in + blanket. Cloud look heap mad—mebbyso make much storm. Bimeby much + mens come in cloud, stand so—and so—and 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 head slowly, + his leathery face set in deep, somber lines. + </p> + <p> + “Much trouble come heap quick,” he said gravely, hitching his blanket into + place upon his shoulder. “Me no sabe—all same, heap trouble come. + Much mens, mebbyso much fight, much shootum—mebbyso kill. Peaceful + Hart him all time laugh me. All same, me sabe smoke sign, sabe cloud sign, + sabe—Baumberga. Heap ka-a-ay bueno!” + </p> + <p> + 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 before he strolled on to the house and to the armchair + upon the porch. + </p> + <p> + 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 wind-riven cloud + meant to him spirit-sent prophecies not to be ignored. + </p> + <p> + 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 minutes, or three—perhaps the time might be + stretched to five. + </p> + <p> + 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 industry—one shining black head bent over a + half-finished, beaded moccasin, another stitching a crude gown of + bright-flowered 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. + </p> + <p> + “Me no can watchum more, mebbyso six days. Yo' no sleepum all time yo' + walk—no thinkum all time squaw. Mebbyso yo' think for man-snake. + Mebbyso yo' watchum,” Peppajee said, as he swung slowly down from + Huckleberry's back. + </p> + <p> + “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 fresh-cheeked and bright-eyed 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 thoughts and all his desire. + </p> + <p> + 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 green-and-white churn of the rapids, and her lips were + pursed moodily, as if she did not even see what she was looking at so + fixedly. + </p> + <p> + 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 said. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 looked full at her. + </p> + <p> + Evadna stared stonily over him to where the water boiled fastest. He might + have been one of the rocks, for all the notice she took of him. + </p> + <p> + 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 over to her. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you feeling well?” he asked, with tender proprietorship in his + tone. + </p> + <p> + “I'm feeling quite well, thank you,” returned Evadna frigidly, neglecting + to look at him. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, then? Aren't you having a good time?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm enjoying myself very much—except that your presence annoys me. + I wish you'd go away.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He wandered back to the river's edge—this time some distance from + where Evadna sat—and began throwing pebbles at the black nose of a + wave-washed 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 full-blooded youths strive against one another for supremacy. + They came to the point of making bets, at first extravagant and then + growing more and more genuinely in earnest, for we're gamblers all, at + heart. + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie burned a frying-panful 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 been blind and deaf she would not have + appeared more oblivious. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian grew anxious, and then angry. The savage stirred within him, + and counseled immediate and complete mastery of her—his woman. But + there was the white man of him who said the thought was brutal 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, + jeering at those who fell short of the mark, and striving his utmost to be + first of them all in accuracy. + </p> + <p> + 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, and + the savage in him laughed and lay down again, knowing himself the master. + </p> + <p> + What he did was to throw away the burnt fish, clean the frying-pan, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 it exactly as + he would have spoken if Jack, for instance, had upset the sugar. + </p> + <p> + He held up the broken-handled 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 did not know that he saw them, though another + did. + </p> + <p> + He was taken wholly by surprise when Miss Georgie, walking past him + afterward on her way to an enticing pool, nipped his arm for attention and + murmured: + </p> + <p> + “You're doing fine—only don't overdo it. She's had just about all + she can stand right now. Give her a chance to forgive you—and let + her think she came out ahead! Good luck!” Whereupon she finished whatever + she pretended to have been doing to her fishing-tackle, and beckoned Wally + and Jack to come along. + </p> + <p> + “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 + nothing more than idle amusement. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like nothing better than to get that four-pounder on my line,” she + added. “It would be the joke of the season—if a woman caught him.” + </p> + <p> + “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 more—and 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 + rocky place. + </p> + <p> + 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 Evadna—once more perched sulkily + upon the rock. + </p> + <p> + “Head still bad, chicken?” she inquired cheerfully. “Better stay here in + the shade—I won't be gone long.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to fish,” said Evadna, but she did not stir, not even when Miss + Georgie went on, convoyed by all the Hart boys. + </p> + <p> + 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 back to the farther shelter of + the ledge. + </p> + <p> + “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 want + more words? Tell me what it is that bothers you.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 you + hadn't cared. You—you let me kiss you. And—” + </p> + <p> + “And after that you—you rode off and left me—and you went away + by yourself, just as if—just 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. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian tried his best to explain his mood and his actions that day, + and if he did not make himself very clear—which could scarcely be + expected, since he did not quite understand it himself—he at least + succeeded in lifting from her the weight of doubt and of depression. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 + quick, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “And thorough,” grinned Jack. “I was thinking some of falling in love with + you myself, Vad. Soon as some of the shine wore off, and you got so you + acted like a real person.” + </p> + <p> + “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 + tones. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. THE CLAIM-JUMPERS + </h2> + <p> + “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 night—didn't they keep you awake?” + </p> + <p> + “Never slept better in my life,” drawled Baumberger, his voice sliding + upward from the first word to the last. His blood-shot eyes, however, + rather gave the lie to his statement. “I'm going to make one more try, + 'long about noon, for that big one—girls 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 slightly over the table while he fed. + </p> + <p> + “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 dark—and I thought maybe it was Gene's ghost. That was before the + moon came up. Got any more biscuits, mum?” + </p> + <p> + “My trap wasn't sprung behind the chicken-house,” said Donny. “I looked, + first thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Dogs,” drawled Baumberger, his enunciation muffled by the food in his + mouth, “always bark. And cats fight on shed-roofs. Next door to where I + board there's a dog that goes on shift as regular as a policeman. Every + night at—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Phoebe!” Evadna, crisp and cool in a summery dress of some + light-colored stuff, and looking more than ever like a Christmas angel set + a-flutter 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 and pointed the gun straight at me!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, honey, that can't be—you 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. + </p> + <p> + Evadna's eyes strayed from one face to another around the table till they + rested upon Good Indian, as having found sanctuary there. + </p> + <p> + “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 speaking. + </p> + <p> + “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 go—never + saw the hobo yet that wouldn't run from a dog.” He smiled leeringly up at + her, and reached for a second helping of honey. + </p> + <p> + 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 sympathy for Evadna's + fear, and he frowned in a baffled way. + </p> + <p> + “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 thick row of + trees—or a garden, or anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “He's got a row of stakes running clear across the patch,” Evadna recalled + suddenly. “Just like they do for a new street, or a railroad, or + something. And—” + </p> + <p> + 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 then Baumberger glanced casually at Peaceful. + </p> + <p> + “Sounds queer—must 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 scared—Sick + the dogs on him,” he advised the family collectively, his manner changing + to a blustering anxiety that her fright should be avenged. + </p> + <p> + 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 coffee-pot and frying-pan and blankets. And there a line of stakes + across the strawberry patch.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Take the dogs along,” called out Baumberger, quite as futilely, for not + one of the boys was within hearing. + </p> + <p> + 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 gallantly upon + feminine timidity and the natural, protective instincts of men. + </p> + <p> + Peaceful Hart may have heard half of what he said—but 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. + </p> + <p> + The runner was Donny, and every freckle stood out distinctly upon his + face. + </p> + <p> + “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' to wash gold. Good Injun—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” screamed Evadna suddenly. “Don't let him—don't let them hurt + him, Uncle Hart!” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, they ain't fightin',” Donny assured her disgustedly. “They're chewin' + the rag down there, is all. Good Injun knows one of 'em.” + </p> + <p> + Peaceful Hart stood indecisively, and stared, one and gripping the back of + his chair. His lips were working so that his beard bristled about his + mouth. + </p> + <p> + “They can't do nothing—the ranch belongs to me,” he said, his eyes + turning rather helplessly to Baumberger. “I've got my patent.” + </p> + <p> + “Jumping our ranch!—for placer claims!” Phoebe stood up, leaning + hard upon the table with both hands. “And we've lived here ever since + Clark was a baby!” + </p> + <p> + “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 serious—and if it is, why—I'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—” + </p> + <p> + “Not excited?—and somebody jumping—our—ranch?” Phoebe's + soft eyes gleamed at him. She was pale, so that her face had a peculiar, + ivory tint. + </p> + <p> + “Now, now!” Baumberger put out a puffy hand admonishingly. “Let's keep + cool—that'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 his thumb and finger. + </p> + <p> + “You're a lawyer, Mr. Baumberger,” Peaceful turned to him, still helpless + in his manner. “What's the best thing to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't—get—excited.” 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, and—order + 'em off. Calmly, calmly! No violence—no threats—just 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, after—say twenty-four hours' notice—why, + we'll proceed to serve an injunction.” He drew a match along the back of + his chair, and lighted his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “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 hot-headed, 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 complicate the case.” + </p> + <p> + “They're looking for it,” Phoebe reminded him bluntly. “The man had a gun, + and threw down on Vadnie.” + </p> + <p> + “He only pointed it at me, auntie,” Evadna corrected, ignorant of the + Western phrase. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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 ranch—and you + can get them anywhere in Idaho, almost. And to come right into our garden, + in the right—and stake a placer claim!” Her anger seemed beyond + further utterance. “The idea!” she finished weakly. + </p> + <p> + “Well—but 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 evil + thing, portending much trouble and black treachery. + </p> + <p> + “That's where people always blunder in a thing like this. A little + cool-headedness goes farther than hard words or lead. And,” he added + cheeringly, “it may be a false alarm, remember. We won't borrow trouble. + We'll just make sure of our ground, first thing we do.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 lightning-scarred + apricot tree. Baumberger lengthened his stride, and so reached the spot + first. + </p> + <p> + 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 claim-jumper 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 jerkily. + </p> + <p> + “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 arm, so that the butt of it + caressed his right shoulder-joint. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You go to the devil,” he advised chillingly. + </p> + <p> + “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. They don't want—” + </p> + <p> + Jack grinned, and hitched his gun into plainer view. “When we start in, it + won't be STICKS we're sending to His Nibs,” he observed placidly. “We're + just waiting for him to ante.” + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Baumberger, a peculiar gleam coming into his leering, + puffy-lidded eyes, and a certain hardness creeping into his voice, “this + is a matter for your father and me to settle. It's just-a-bide-beyond you + youngsters. This is a civil case. Don't foolishly make it come under the + criminal code. But there!” His voice purred at them again. “You won't. + You're all too clear-headed and sensible.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sure!” Wally gave his characteristic little snort. “We're only just + standing around to see how fast the cabbages grow!” + </p> + <p> + Baumberger advanced boldly across the dead line. + </p> + <p> + “Stanley, put down that gun, and explain your presence here and your + object,” he rumbled. “Let's get at this thing right end to. First, what + are you doing here?” + </p> + <p> + 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 half-closed 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 Evadna—for + 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 more than his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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 + corner—ap-prox'm'tley—close 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 top—and 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 trouble—but 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.” + </p> + <p> + He took a breath so deep it expanded visibly his chest—a broad, + muscular chest it was—and let his eyes wander deliberately over his + audience. + </p> + <p> + “That there's where <i>I</i> stand,” he stated, with arrogant + self-assurance. 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. + </p> + <p> + “I happen to know—” Peaceful began, suddenly for him. But Baumberger + waved him into silence. + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to prove there's gold in paying quantities here,” he stated + pompously. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I aim to do,” Stanley told him imperturbably. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> proved, over fifteen years ago, that there WASN'T,” Peaceful + drawled laconically, and sucked so hard upon his pipe that his cheeks held + deep hollows. + </p> + <p> + Stanley grinned at him. “Sorry I can't let it go at that,” he said + ironically. “I reckon I'll have to do some washin' myself, though, before + I feel satisfied there ain't.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you haven't panned out anything yet?” Phoebe caught him up. + </p> + <p> + Stanley's eyes flickered a questioning glance at Baumberger, and + Baumberger puffed out his chest and said: + </p> + <p> + “The law won't permit you to despoil this man's property without good + reason. We can serve an injunction—” + </p> + <p> + “You can serve and be darned.” Stanley's grin returned, wider than before. + </p> + <p> + “As Mr. Hart's legal adviser,” Baumberger began, in the tone he employed + in the courtroom—a 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 twenty-four hours have expired, will be + looked upon as malicious trespass, and treated as such.” + </p> + <p> + Stanley still grinned. “As my own legal adviser,” he returned calmly, “I + hereby declare that you can go plumb to HEL-ena.” Stanley evidently felt + impelled to adapt his vocabulary to feminine ears, for he glanced at them + deprecatingly and as if he wished them elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + 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 half-shut 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 quietly beside Evadna, + his attitude almost that of boredom. + </p> + <p> + “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 added half + humorously, “as a test case. If he goes, they'll all go.” + </p> + <p> + “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 hunk uh pork is kicking up a lot uh dust, + but he ain't GETTING anywhere!” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” Good Indian thrust both hands deep into his trousers pockets, + and stared at the ground before him. + </p> + <p> + Wally gave another snort. “I don't know how it hits you, Grant—but + there's something fishy about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ex-actly.” Good Indian took one long step over the ditch, and went on + steadily. + </p> + <p> + Wally, coming again alongside, turned his head, and regarded him + attentively. + </p> + <p> + “Injun's on top,” he diagnosed sententiously after a minute. “Looks like + he's putting on a good, thick layer uh war-paint, too.” He waited + expectantly. “You might hand me the brush when you're through,” he hinted + grimly. “I might like to get out after some scalps myself.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 says—staked 'em out in the night and stuck up their + notices—and 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 contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “I wish dad wasn't so—” began Wally moodily, and let it go at that. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian threw up his head with that peculiar tightening of lips which + meant much in the way of emotion. + </p> + <p> + “He'll listen to Baumberger, and he'll lose the ranch listening,” he + stated distinctly. “If there's anything to do, we've got to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “We can run 'em off—maybe,” suggested Jack, his fighting instincts + steadied by the vivid memory of four rifles held by four men, who looked + thoroughly capable of using them. + </p> + <p> + “This isn't a case of apple-stealing,” Good Indian quelled sharply, and + got his rope from his saddle with the manner of a man who has definitely + made up his mind. + </p> + <p> + “What CAN we do, then?” Wally demanded impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “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 to-day than if you killed off the + whole bunch.” + </p> + <p> + He came back in a few minutes with his horse, and found the two still + moodily discussing the thing. He glanced at them casually, and went about + the business of saddling. + </p> + <p> + “Where you going?” asked Wally abruptly, when Grant was looping up the end + of his latigo. + </p> + <p> + “Just scouting around a little,” was the unsatisfactory reply he got, and + he scowled as Good Indian rode away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. SQUAW-TALK-FAR-OFF HEAP SMART + </h2> + <p> + Good Indian spoke briefly with the good-looking 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 smilingly + pointed out to him. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Peppajee? How you foot?” he asked, when his unaccustomed eyes + discerned the old fellow lying back against the farther wall. + </p> + <p> + “Huh! Him heap sick all time.” Having his injury thus brought afresh to + his notice, Peppajee reached down with his hands, and moved the foot + carefully to a new position. + </p> + <p> + “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, blankets—stop 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 men—in court. You sabe. Ask + Great Father to tell those men they go away, no wash gold on ranch.” He + waited. + </p> + <p> + 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 not speak + quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Las' night—mebbyso yo' watchum?” he asked, as one who holds his + judgment in abeyance. + </p> + <p> + “I heap fool. I no watch. I let those men come while I think of—a + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. Mebbyso yo' + thinkum fight, no sabe how yo' fight.” + </p> + <p> + 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 Indian—he was also a man. + </p> + <p> + “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' no sleepum + mo'. All time yo' watchum.” + </p> + <p> + “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 + ranch. You hear talk, mebbyso you tell me now.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Yo' go speakum Squaw-talk-far-off,” he commanded. “All time makum talk—talk—” + 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 Man-that-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 squaw. All time glad for talkum yo'. Yo' go.” + </p> + <p> + Good Indian stood up, his head bent to avoid scraping his hat against the + sloping roof of the wikiup. + </p> + <p> + “You no hear more talk all time you watch?” he asked, passing over Miss + Georgie's possible aid or interest in the affair. + </p> + <p> + “Much talkum—no can hear. All time them damn' Baumberga shut door—no + 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 foot—no 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 Squaw-talk-far-off. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 her—or if he + did, her clamor was to him as the yelping of the dogs which filled his + ears, but did not enter his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + The young squaw smiled at him shy-eyed 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 man-mind 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 own. As for + Miss Georgie Howard— + </p> + <p> + “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 horse, was particularly + foolish sometimes. + </p> + <p> + With that in his mind, he mounted—and turned Keno's head toward + Hartley. The distance was not great—little more than half a mile—but + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 were not + quite certain of his own mind, or of his welcome. + </p> + <p> + 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 unapproachableness. + </p> + <p> + “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 help. + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “Item: One pound of red-and-white candy for Peppajee Jim next time I see + him.” Miss Georgie laughed—but 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 yesterday that you had found one!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + So Good Indian told her. + </p> + <p> + “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 done—unless + you had kicked old Baumberger into the Snake. He's the god in this + machine. I'd swear to that.” + </p> + <p> + 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 trust implicitly. + </p> + <p> + “You're right as far as I'm concerned,” he owned, with his queer, + inscrutable smile. “I think you're also right about him. What makes you + think so, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie twirled a ring upon her middle finger for a moment before she + looked up at him. + </p> + <p> + “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 he—died, I didn't know enough to go on and + be a lawyer myself, so I took to this.” She waved her hand impatiently + toward the telegraph instrument. + </p> + <p> + “So it's like this: Eight men can take placer claims—can hold them, + you know—for 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 choose—or at least + get together—those 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 ground, aren't they?” + </p> + <p> + “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 might + give me something definite to go on. He couldn't, though.” + </p> + <p> + “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 person—I don't believe Baumberger can do that + all himself legally. I've got some of daddy's law-books 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. “Think—think + HARD, what's best to do!” + </p> + <p> + “The only thing I can think of,” he scowled, “is to kill that—” + </p> + <p> + “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 + rough-on-rats in his dinner, but I intend to refrain from doing as I'd + like, and stick to what's best.” + </p> + <p> + 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 been—they'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. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, is there any pay dirt on that ranch?” Miss Georgie kept + herself rigidly to the main subject. + </p> + <p> + “No, there isn't. Not,” he added dryly, “unless it has grown gold in the + last few years. There are colors, of course. All this country practically + can show colors, but pay dirt? No!” + </p> + <p> + “Look out,” she advised him slowly, “that pay dirt doesn't grow over + night! Sabe?” + </p> + <p> + Good Indian's eyes spoke admiration of her shrewdness. + </p> + <p> + “I must be getting stupid, not to have thought of that,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “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 going to use the laws himself, and it's with the law + we've got to fight him.” + </p> + <p> + 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 legible. + </p> + <p> + “Betraying professional secrets, but I don't care,” she exclaimed, turning + swiftly toward him. “Listen to this: + </p> + <p> + “'How's fishing? Landed the big one yet? Ready for fry?”' + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “He came up yesterday—with fish for Pete, he SAID, and of course he + really did have some—and sent a wire to Shoshone. I found it on file + when I came back. That was perfectly innocent, too. It was: + </p> + <p> + “'Expect to land big one to-night. Plenty of small fry. Smooth trail.' + </p> + <p> + “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! + You won't mind waiting here?” + </p> + <p> + 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 to-day, and he was a bit + startled at what he was finding her to be. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + She came eagerly up to him—he was sitting in the beribboned rocker + dedicated to friendly callers, and had the rug badly rumpled with his + spurs, which he had forgotten to remove—and 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 of chocolates from going + bottom up on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Like candy? Help yourself, if you do,” she said, and tucked a piece into + her mouth absent-mindedly before she laid the leather-bound book open on + the table. “Now, we'll see what information Mr. Copp can give us. He's a + high authority—General Land Office Commissioner, if you please. He's + a few years old—several years old, for that matter—but I don't + think he's out of date; I believe what he says still goes. M-m-m!-'Liens + on Mines'—'Clause Inserted in Patents'—'Affidavits Taken + Without Notice to Opposing'—oh, it must be here—it's GOT to be + here!” + </p> + <p> + She was running a somewhat sticky forefinger slowly down the index pages. + “It isn't alphabetically arranged, which I consider sloppy of Mr. Copp. + Ah-h! '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 heads over it, though Miss Georgie read aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's a letter—but it's a decision, and as such has weight. U-m! + </p> + <p> + “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 respectfully,” + </p> + <p> + “'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 patent—Baumberger 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 that—IS there?” + </p> + <p> + “That's about as straight as he could put it,” Good Indian agreed, his + face losing a little of its anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “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 heavy brackets, wetting the lead on her tongue for emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “'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 together over the sentiment conveyed therein. + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <p> + “'I have to state that if eight bona-fide locaters' + </p> + <p> + (“Whether they're that remains to be proven, Mr. Baumberger!”) + </p> + <p> + '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—' + </p> + <p> + “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 faith—those 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.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to be doing pretty well,” he remarked, his eyes dwelling rather + intently upon her face, and smiling as they did so. + </p> + <p> + “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 land—and 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 error—oh, as Jenny Wren says in—in—” + </p> + <p> + “'Our Mutual Friend?'” Good Indian suggested unexpectedly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you've read it!—where she always says: '<i>I</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 it—so + there you are.” + </p> + <p> + 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 + laws—and 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 tap-tap of feet on the platform, and Evadna appeared in the half-open + doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she exclaimed, and widened her indigo eyes at him sitting there and + looking so much at home. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 + riding-skirt, 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. + </p> + <p> + “When did you come up?” Good Indian asked her, trying so hard to keep a + placating note out of his voice that he made himself sound apologetic. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—about an hour ago, I think,” Evadna drawled sweetly—the + sweet tones which always mean trouble, when employed by a woman. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 it—when you go.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going now, if you're ready,” he told her shortly, and reached for his + hat. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—if you're really going,” she drawled, and followed him outside. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. “DON'T GET EXCITED!” + </h2> + <p> + Lovers, it would seem, require much less material for a quarrel than + persons in a less exalted frame of mind. + </p> + <p> + 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 rocking-chair, 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 resents humiliation more keenly + than a direct injury. + </p> + <p> + As to Evadna, her atmosphere was that of conscious and magnanimous + superiority to any feeling so humanly petty as jealousy—which is + extremely irritating to anyone who is at all sensitive to atmospheric + conditions. + </p> + <p> + 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 lunch—dinner, I mean—and + she's so upset over those horrible men planted in the orchard—did + 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. Good-by—come + down whenever you can, won't you?” She smiled, and she waved a hand, and + she held up her riding-skirt daintily as she turned away. “You didn't say + goodby to Georgie,” she reminded Grant, still making use of the chirpy + tone. “I hope I am not in any way responsible.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how you could be,” said Good Indian calmly; and that, for + some reason, seemed to intensify the atmosphere with which Evadna chose to + surround herself. + </p> + <p> + 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 package—a + 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 Hartley and the sagebrush waste surrounding it. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to be in a good deal of a hurry,” Good Indian observed. + </p> + <p> + “Not particularly,” she replied, still chirpy as to tone and supercilious + as to her manner. + </p> + <p> + 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 sarcasm—which came rapidly out from behind the veil and grew + sharp and bitter—before 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 + pretext whatsoever. + </p> + <p> + Baumberger, in his shirt-sleeves and smoking his big pipe, lounged up from + the pasture gate where he had been indolently rubbing the nose of a + buckskin two-year-old 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 match for his answer. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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 bridle-reins, and started for the stable. + Baumberger happened to be in the way, and he backed again, more hastily + than before, to avoid being run over. + </p> + <p> + “Snow blind?” he interrogated, forcing a chuckle which had more the sound + of a growl. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “By the great immortal Jehosaphat!” swore Baumberger, with an ugly leer in + his eyes, “I never knew before that I was so small I couldn't be seen with + the naked eye!” + </p> + <p> + “You're so small in my estimation that a molecule would look like a + hay-stack alongside you!” Good Indian lifted the skirt of Evadna's + side-saddle, 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. + </p> + <p> + “YOU ain't shrunk up none—in 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 + yellow-haired 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. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever try minding your own business?” Grant inquired with much + politeness of tone. + </p> + <p> + “We-e-ell, 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 forenoon—maybe + I've kinda got the habit.” + </p> + <p> + “Only you're pouring it on a fire this time.” + </p> + <p> + “That dangerous, yuh mean?” + </p> + <p> + “You're liable to start a conflagration you can't stop, and that may + consume yourself, is all.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, they sure do teach pretty talk in them colleges!” he purred, + grinning loosely, his own speech purposely uncouth. + </p> + <p> + 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 purpose—because 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 + himself. + </p> + <p> + “What d'yuh mean by me pouring oil on fire!” Baumberger urged banteringly. + “Sounds like the hero talking to the villain in one of these here + save-him-he's-my-sweetheart plays.” + </p> + <p> + “You go to the devil,” said Good Indian shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Don't repeat yourself, m' son; it's a sign uh failing powers. You said + that to me this morning, remember? And—don't—get—excited!” + His right arm raised slightly when he said that, as if he expected a blow + for his answer. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 + t'-day. I gotta WATCH him.” + </p> + <p> + 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 with Evadna—if it + was only to continue their quarrel. + </p> + <p> + 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 affairs down in the orchard. + </p> + <p> + Evadna, it is true, strolled rather self-consciously 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 much-abused cushion + under his head and his hat tilted over his face, so that he could see + Baumberger's face without the scrutiny attracting notice. + </p> + <p> + 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 odds—cases for the most + part similar to this claim-jumping business. + </p> + <p> + 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 leaf-shadows on the ground. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 arm, and gave it a little, reassuring squeeze. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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 consciously—“you didn't + think I was going to—to fall dead in love—” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I?” Phoebe laughed at him openly. “I'd have been more surprised if + you hadn't. Why, my grief! I know enough about human nature, I hope, to + expect—” + </p> + <p> + “Churning?” The voice of Baumberger purred down to them. There he stood + bulkily at the top of the steps, good-naturedly regarding them. “Mr. Hart + and I are goin' to take a ride up to the station—gotta 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 + Indian, and passed him over as being of no consequence. + </p> + <p> + “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 all—Oh, all + right.” He had caught another shake of the head. + </p> + <p> + “We may be gone till supper-time,” 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 boys—they'll + do as you say.” He leered at her ingratiatingly, shot a keen, questioning + look at Good Indian, and went his lumbering way. + </p> + <p> + 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 spring-house; he had become an exceedingly suspicious young man + overnight. + </p> + <p> + “Mother Hart, on the square, what do you think of Baumberger?” he asked + her abruptly. “Come and sit down; I want to talk with you—if I can + without having the whole of Idaho listening.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Grant—I 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 something—well, 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, too—seems like + I'd go all to pieces if I can't do SOMETHING!” She sighed, and tried to + cover the sigh with a laugh—which was not, however, a great success. + “I wish I could be as cool-headed as Thomas,” she said, with a tinge of + petulance. “It don't seem to worry him none!” + </p> + <p> + “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 boot-toe + thoughtfully upon the bottom step, and glancing up now and then as a + precaution against being overheard. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 there now? Does anybody know?” + </p> + <p> + “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 so—CALM!” + </p> + <p> + “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 Hart—will 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—” + </p> + <p> + “Can't be nice, and forgiving, and repentant, and—a 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 H-A-ATE 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 and + inconsiderate and a brute. + </p> + <p> + 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 anyone else could do so. And the + things she had said! + </p> + <p> + But here she was, nevertheless, laughing at him and blushing adorably + because he still held her fast, and making the blood of him race most + unreasonably. + </p> + <p> + “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're—well, 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 unexpectedly—really, 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 up—and, 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 to—to Hartley.” She put her arms + around her aunt's neck. “You aren't angry, are you, Aunt Phoebe?” she + coaxed. “You—you know you said you wanted me to be par-TIC-ularly + nice to Grant!” + </p> + <p> + “Great grief, child! You needn't choke me to death. Of course I'm not + angry.” But Phoebe's eyes did not brighten. + </p> + <p> + “You look angry,” Evadna pouted, and kissed her placatingly. + </p> + <p> + “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 + thinking some of the home I'm likely to lose.” + </p> + <p> + Evadna drew back, and made a movement to go. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm sorry I interrupted you then, Aunt Phoebe. I suppose you and + Grant were busy discussing those men in the orchard—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be silly, child. You aren't interrupting anybody, and there's no + call for you to run off like that. We aren't talking secrets that I know + of.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + But he did not say anything to her; he was a young man unused to dalliance + when there were serious things at hand. + </p> + <p> + “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 them left + strictly alone. The boys had better keep away, though.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going down in the orchard?” Evadna rounded her unbelievably blue + eyes at him. “Then I'm going along.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll do nothing of the kind, little Miss Muffit,” he declared from the + top step. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I might want to do some swearing.” He grinned down at her, and started + off. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Grant, don't you do anything rash!” Phoebe called after him sharply. + </p> + <p> + “'Don't—get—excited!'” he retorted, mimicking Baumberger. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going a little way, whether you want me to or not,” Evadna + threatened, pouting more than ever. + </p> + <p> + 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 orchard—and + to the stable as well, though that view did not interest her particularly + at first. It was pure accident that made her witness what took place at + the gate. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. A LITTLE TARGET-PRACTICE + </h2> + <p> + 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 held out a yellowish envelope. + </p> + <p> + “Ketchum Squaw-talk-far-off,” he explained gutturally. + </p> + <p> + 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 + telegraph form: + </p> + <p> + “Come up as soon as you possibly can. I've something to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + That was what she had written. He read it twice before he looked up. + </p> + <p> + “What time you ketchum this?” he asked, tapping the message with his + finger. + </p> + <p> + “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. + “Ketchum one dolla, mebbyso pikeway quick. No stoppum,” he said + virtuously. + </p> + <p> + “You see Peaceful in Hartley?” Good Indian asked the question from an idle + impulse; in reality, he was wondering what it was that Miss Georgie had to + tell him. + </p> + <p> + “Peacefu', him go far off. On train. All same heap fat man go 'long. + Mebbyso Shoshone, mebbyso Pocatello.” + </p> + <p> + 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 day—perhaps + 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 started toward the orchard, as he had at first + intended. + </p> + <p> + “Mebbyso ketchum one dolla, yo',” hinted Charlie, the buck. + </p> + <p> + But Good Indian went on without paying any attention to him. At the road + he met Jack and Wally, just returning from the orchard. + </p> + <p> + “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 anything—not even when you cuss + 'em. Wally and I got black in the face trying to make them come alive. + Baumberger got back yet? Wally and I have got a scheme—” + </p> + <p> + “He and your dad took the train for Shoshone. Say, does anyone know what + that bunch over in the meadow is up to?” Good Indian leaned his back + against a tree, and eyed the two morosely. + </p> + <p> + “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 + dirt—they 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 anything.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to break out pretty darned sudden,” Jack observed calmly. “I + feel it coming on.” He smiled, but there was a look of steel in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian glanced at him sharply. + </p> + <p> + “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 it—or if I did—” He lifted his shoulders + expressively. + </p> + <p> + “So,” he went on, after a minute of bitter thinking, “I want you to keep + out of this. You know how your mother would feel—You don't want to + get foolish. You can keep an eye on them—to-night 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, + why—I'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. + </p> + <p> + “What yuh loaded down like that for?” he demanded. “You fellows better put + those guns in cold storage. I'm like Baumberger in one respect—we + don't want any violence!” He grinned without any feeling of mirth. + </p> + <p> + “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 + somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “I notice you're packing yours, large as life,” Jack pointed out. “Maybe + you're just wearing it for an ornament, though.” + </p> + <p> + “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 sort—and he + knew that, when he did make a move, he at least ought to know why he did + it. + </p> + <p> + 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 again—and + while he was not a man who must have everything put into words, he had + found comfort and a certain clarity of thought in talking with her. + </p> + <p> + “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 read + it. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't think you'd want to ride through all that dust and heat again + to-day,” he called back. “You're better off in the shade.” + </p> + <p> + “Going to call on 'Squaw-talk-far-off'—AGAIN?” She was still + laughing, with something else beneath the laugh. + </p> + <p> + 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 good-by—with a hasty kiss, + perhaps, from the saddle—as a lover should have done. + </p> + <p> + He was not used to love-making. For him, it was settled that they loved + each other, and would marry some day—he 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 at ease. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” he asked dully. “Mad because you can't smoke up the + ranch?” + </p> + <p> + Evadna fumbled blindly for her handkerchief, scoured her eyes well when + she found it, and put up the other hand to further shield her face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the whole place is like a GRAVEYARD,” she complained. “Nobody will + talk, or do anything but just wander around! I just can't STAND it!” Which + was not frank of her. + </p> + <p> + “It's too hot to do much of anything,” he said apologetically. “We might + take a ride, if you don't mind the heat.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't want to ride,” she objected petulantly. “Why didn't you go with + Good Indian?” he countered. + </p> + <p> + “Because I didn't want to. And I do wish you'd quit calling him that; he + has a real name, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “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 claim-jumpers. You + seem to be in just about the proper frame uh mind to murder the whole + bunch. Fly at it!” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “I guess that'll be about enough,” Jack interrupted her, coldly. “Why + didn't you say that to Good Indian?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you not to call him that. I don't see why everybody is so mean + to-day. There isn't a person—” + </p> + <p> + 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 a brute. + </p> + <p> + “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, saw + her there, huddled upon the bed. + </p> + <p> + In the spring-house 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 Charlie—and the road + to his favor must be paved with gifts. + </p> + <p> + “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 coffee-pot. And Jack was the mild one of the + family. + </p> + <p> + By the time he had succeeded in puncturing recklessly the frying-pan, 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 breath. + </p> + <p> + “Got to do something to pass away the time,” Jack grinned, bringing his + front sight once more to bear upon the coffee—pot, 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 + frying-pan. And I wouldn't—hurt—you—for—anything!” + He had just reloaded, so that his bullets saw him to the end of the + sentence. + </p> + <p> + Stanley watched his coffee-pot 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. + </p> + <p> + “Your old dad will sweat blood for this—and you'll be packing your + blanket on your back and looking for work before snow flies,” was his way + of summing up. + </p> + <p> + Still, he did not shoot. + </p> + <p> + It was like throwing pebbles at the bowlder in the Malad, the day before. + </p> + <p> + 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 claim-jumpers purple from long + swearing, and the boys gleefully indulging in revolver practice with + various camp utensils for the targets. + </p> + <p> + 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 out-of-the-way shelves, while Phoebe + expostulated in the immediate background. + </p> + <p> + “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 milk-house, and tried to cover her secret approval with + grumbling to herself. + </p> + <p> + 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 that they were on their way to a + dance, so eager they were. + </p> + <p> + 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 + claim-jumping, and to punctuate their remarks with leaden periods planted + neatly and with precision in the immediate vicinity of one of the four. + </p> + <p> + 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 taunting laughter, within range of those + rises, and they told Donny so. + </p> + <p> + 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 Donny + retreated in great indignation to the house. + </p> + <p> + 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 returned unexpectedly with the shotgun and an enthusiasm for real + bloodshed. + </p> + <p> + 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 dusk and Good Indian's opportune arrival prevented serious + trouble. + </p> + <p> + 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 about Saunders. + </p> + <p> + 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, according to Pete Hamilton, was sudden death of a + hemorrhage. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 gone—because + 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 + him, anyway, Mr. Imsen.” + </p> + <p> + 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 rim-rock above the + ranch, Good Indian had heard the shooting, though the trees hid from his + sight what was taking place, and he had given over his search for Saunders + and made haste to reach home. + </p> + <p> + He might have gone straight down the bluff afoot, through a rift in the + rim-rock where it was possible to climb down into the fissure and squeeze + out through a narrow opening to the bowlder-piled 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + fellows—which 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 good-night 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 ill-used. He would have been distressed if he could have + known how she cried herself to sleep but, manlike, he would also have been + puzzled. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. A SHOT FROM THE RIM-ROCK + </h2> + <p> + 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 + chicken-house. 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. + </p> + <p> + He went over to the chicken-house, probed with his knife-blade 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 gun-sound, and + he also saw a puff of blue smoke rise up on the rim-rock above him. He + marked the place instinctively with his eyes, and went on to the stable, + stepping rather more quickly than was his habit. + </p> + <p> + Inside, he sat down upon the oats-box, 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, while + they were climbing that bluff. + </p> + <p> + Even if one succeeded in reaching the foot of the rim-rock, there was a + forty-foot 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 enough—if one were but left to climb in + peace, but absolutely suicidal if an enemy stood above. + </p> + <p> + He scowled through the little paneless window at what he could see of the + bluff, and thought of the mile-long 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. + </p> + <p> + And who could he be? And why was he shooting at Good Indian, so far a + non-combatant, guiltless of even firing a single shot since the trouble + began? + </p> + <p> + 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 whole-heartedly 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 + unpleasantness in their immediate past. + </p> + <p> + “Where you ketchum?” he asked, coming a bit closer. + </p> + <p> + “In the side of the chicken-house.” Good Indian's tone was laconic. + </p> + <p> + Wally reached out, and took the bullet from him that he might juggle it + curiously in his own fingers. “I don't think!” he scouted. + </p> + <p> + “There's another one there to match this,” Good Indian stated calmly, “and + if I should walk over there after it, I'll gamble there'd be more.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't anybody take a shot at you, as you came from the house?” Good + Indian asked when he saw the mood of the other. + </p> + <p> + “If he did, he was careful not to let me find it out.” Wally's expression + hardened. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Jack sauntered in much as Wally had done, saw Good Indian sitting there, + and wrinkled his eyes shut in a smile. + </p> + <p> + “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 lasted!” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “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 soon see if they're all on their + little patch of soil. Let's go take a look.” + </p> + <p> + They went out guardedly, their eyes upon the rim-rock. 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 + stable-door to the corral; and that, Jack said afterward, didn't take all + day. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “They're liable to suspect something,” Wally reminded dryly, “if one of us + gets laid out cold.” + </p> + <p> + 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 thing—yet.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Keep an eye on the rim-rock, 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. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, go ON!” bawled Wally, his nerves all on edge. + </p> + <p> + Jack dug his heel into the dust, blew the ashes from his cigarette, and + went on slowly to the gate, passed through, and stood well back, out of + sight under the trees, to watch. + </p> + <p> + Wally snorted disdain of any proceeding so spectacular, but he was as he + was made, and he could not keep his dare-devil 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 knew they had been holding their + breath. + </p> + <p> + “Well—here 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 realistic—for + a dream.” His eyes searched involuntarily the rim-rock with a certain + incredulity, as if he could not bring himself to believe in that bullet, + after all. + </p> + <p> + “But two of the jumpers are gone,” said Wally. “I reckon we stirred 'em up + some yesterday, and they're trying to get back at us.” + </p> + <p> + “They've picked a dandy place,” Good Indian observed. “I think maybe it + would be a good idea to hold that fort ourselves. We should have thought + of that; only I never thought—” + </p> + <p> + Phoebe, heavy-eyed 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 again. “And I never done a thing to him!” he + declared virtuously. + </p> + <p> + Phoebe set down the coffee-pot with an air of decision. + </p> + <p> + “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 thinks—I don't know as ho's got anything to say + about it—it's what <i>I</i> think. I know I'm only a woman, and you + all consider yourselves men, whether you are or not, and it's beneath your + dignity, maybe, to listen to your mother. + </p> + <p> + “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 knot-hole 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.” + </p> + <p> + The color came into her cheeks at the memory, and a sparkle into her eyes. + “I've seen real fighting, when it was a life-and-death 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. + </p> + <p> + “And here last night,” she reproached irritatedly, “I heard someone say: + 'Oh, come on—we'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 row of + faces bent over their plates. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you can laugh—it'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 to-day—laying + behind a currant bush and shooting COFFEE-POTS!—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 times—I 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 gun-fight is kinda + sickening to a person that's seen the real thing. + </p> + <p> + “'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's-play-Injun business + going on around this ranch. Why, I'd lead you down there by the ear, every + mother's son of you, and tell that man Stanley to SPANK you!” + </p> + <p> + “Mum can whip her weight in wildcats any old time,” Wally announced after + a heavy silence, and glared aggressively from one foolish-looking face to + another. + </p> + <p> + As was frequently the case, the wave of Phoebe's wrath ebbed harmlessly + away in laughter as the humorous aspect of her tirade was brought to her + attention. + </p> + <p> + “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 + someone. When your father gets back, we'll see what's to be done.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Mum. We won't look toward the garden to-day,” Wally promised + largely, and held out his cup to her to be refilled. “You can keep my gun, + if you want to make dead sure.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can trust my boys, I hope,” and she glowed with real pride in them + when she said it. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian lingered on the porch for half an hour or so, waiting for + Evadna to appear. She may have seen him through the window—at 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 drawn-work, and was drawing + intricate little diagrams of certain patterns with her fork upon the + tablecloth. + </p> + <p> + She looked up, and gave him a careless greeting, and went back to + discussing certain “wheels” in the corner of an imaginary lunch-cloth 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 drawings, and glanced at him with her + most exaggerated Christmas-angel look. + </p> + <p> + “Don't interrupt, please,” she said mincingly. “This is IMPORTANT. And,” + she troubled to explain, “I'm really in a hurry, because I'm going to help + Aunt Phoebe make strawberry jam.” + </p> + <p> + 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 + breast-pocket. + </p> + <p> + “WE can't raise anybody,” Wally told him disgustedly, “and I've made three + round trips myself. I'm going to quit fooling around, and go to work.” + </p> + <p> + 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 visible means of discovering what + the unknown quantities could possibly be. + </p> + <p> + 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 + rim-rock 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 the trail ahead of him, sending up a little spurt of fine + sand. + </p> + <p> + 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 rowels, and galloped around the Point. + </p> + <p> + There, for the time being, he was safe. Unless the shooter upon the + rim-rock 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 of the time from the receding wall of rock + by huge bowlders and giant sage. + </p> + <p> + Grant knew that he was safe from that quarter, and was wondering whether + he ought to ride up along the top of the bluff before going to Hartley, as + he had intended. + </p> + <p> + 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 softly: + </p> + <p> + “Yo' no shoot—no shoot—me 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 four-inch 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 animal. Yet she did not seem to be afraid of + Good Indian. + </p> + <p> + “I sorry I scare yo' horse,” she said hesitatingly, speaking better + English than before. “I heap hurry to get here. I speak with yo'.” + </p> + <p> + “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 good-looking young + squaw he had seen at the Indian camp. “What's your name?” he asked, + remembering suddenly that he had never heard it. + </p> + <p> + “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 shootum.” + </p> + <p> + “I know—I'm going to ride around that way and round him up.” + Unconsciously his manner had the arrogance of strength and power to do as + he wished, which belongs to healthy young males. + </p> + <p> + “N-o, no-o!” She drew a sharp breath “o' no good there! Dim shoot yo'. Yo' + no go! Ah-h—I sorry I tellum yo' now. Bad mans, him. I watch, I take + care him no shoot. Him shoot, mebbyso <i>I</i> shoot!” + </p> + <p> + 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 + prime. + </p> + <p> + “I want yo'—” she hesitated; “I want yo'—be heap careful. I + want yo' no ride close by hill. Ride far out!” She made a sweeping gesture + toward the valley. “All time I watch.” + </p> + <p> + He was staring at her in a puzzled way. She was handsome, after her wild, + half-civilized type, and her anxiety for his welfare touched him and + besought his interest. + </p> + <p> + “Indians go far down—” She swept her arm down the narrowing river + valley. “Catch fish. Peppajee stay—no can walk far. I stay. All go, + mebbyso stay five days.” Her hand lifted involuntarily to mark the number. + </p> + <p> + 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 + gathered—though 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 aim, and shoot—and she had + known that he was shooting at Good Indian. + </p> + <p> + When he asked her the second time what was her errand up there—whether + she was following the man, or had suspected that he would be there—she + shook her head vaguely and took refuge behind the stolidity of her race. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 hunting him out, in all that rough jumble. + </p> + <p> + 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 had seen in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + 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 Hartley and his discussion of late events + with Miss Georgie. + </p> + <p> + 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 lily-pads within ten feet of them. It was not so long ago, that + evening. The time that had passed since might be reckoned easily in hours, + but to Good Indian it seemed a month, at the very least. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. EVADNA GOES CALLING + </h2> + <p> + “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 furtive-eyed + individuals answering your description bought round-trip 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 stunt—and + if the boys have begun to devil them any, the chances are good that they'd + take turns at it, anyway. They'd leave someone always on the ground, + that's a cinch. + </p> + <p> + “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 bed—so Pete + told me this morning. And most of the Indians have pulled out—squaws, + dogs, papooses, and all—on 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 four-thirty—five. + </p> + <p> + “And that's all I can tell you, Mr. Imsen,” she finished crisply, and took + up a novel with a significance which not even the dullest man could have + ignored. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian stared, flushed hotly, and made for the door. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for the information. I'm afraid this has been a lot of bother + for you,” he said stiffly, gave her a ceremonious little bow, and went his + way stiff-necked and frowning. + </p> + <p> + 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 wide-open + door. + </p> + <p> + 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 + pump-house 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 for the grimy attendant. + </p> + <p> + “What a fool—what 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 magazines he + could find, including—especially including—the alleged “funny” + ones. + </p> + <p> + “You certainly—are—the prize—fool!” 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 garden-party chapter much as + she used to study her multiplication table when she was ten and hated + arithmetic. + </p> + <p> + 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 bareheaded in the sun to watch the unloading. + </p> + <p> + 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, + sage-covered 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. + </p> + <p> + “Is Miss Georgie Howard at home?” It was Evadna standing in the doorway, + her indigo eyes fixed with innocent gayety—which her mouth somehow + failed to meet halfway in mirth—upon the reader. + </p> + <p> + “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 tie-rope into what looked like a knot, and + step lightly upon the platform. She had kept her head down—had Miss + Georgie—until 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. + </p> + <p> + “Everything at the ranch is perfectly horrid,” Evadna complained + pathetically, leaning back in the rocking-chair. “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 and—oh, 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 house—and + even then I couldn't help hearing most of it. + </p> + <p> + “And to-day 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 cross—CROSS, + 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 now—she + just goes around with tears running down into the flannel around her face + till I could SHAKE her!” Evadna laughed—a self-pitying 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!” + </p> + <p> + “For a girl with a brand-new sweetheart—” Miss Georgie reproved + quizzically, and reached for the inevitable candy box. + </p> + <p> + “A lot of good that does, when he's never there!” flashed Evadna, + unintentionally revealing her real grievance. “He just eats and goes—and + 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 rather than say; to Miss + Georgie, of all people. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 and picks me up again—” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, upon my word! Just as if I wanted—” + </p> + <p> + “You really ought to help him by being kind and showing a little sympathy, + instead—” + </p> + <p> + “It appears that the supply of sympathy—” + </p> + <p> + “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 problem—and carries his + life in his hand—” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn't avoid you. And you're acting sillier than I ever supposed you + could. He can't be in two places at once, can he? Now, let's be sensible, + chicken. Grant—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—h!” There was a peculiar, sliding inflection upon that word, + which made Miss Georgie's hand shut into a fist. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “I know all that.” Evadna interrupted without apology. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course, if you DO—then 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 certain sense responsible—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. He thinks he should have been watching somebody or something + instead of—of 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 there + was no look of an angel in her face. + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie pressed her lips together tightly for a minute. When she + spoke, she was cheerfully impersonal as to tone and manner. + </p> + <p> + “Chicken, you're a little goose. The man is simply crazy about you, and + harassed to death with this ranch business. Once that's settled—well, + you'll see what sort of a lover he can be!” + </p> + <p> + “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 back in the chair and beginning to rock + again. + </p> + <p> + “It's a nasty, underhand business from start to finish,” said Miss + Georgie, ignoring the remark. “It has upset everybody—me 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 with old Baumberger—and + if ever there was a sly old mole of a man, he's one. + </p> + <p> + “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, why—he'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 move—but he never located old + Baumberger, to my knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + 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 measuring-stick. She began to suspect that Evadna was, after + all, an extremely self-centered little person; she was sorry for the + suspicion, and she was also conscious of a certain disappointment which + was not altogether for herself. + </p> + <p> + “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 a—a '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 white-ribboner, or some other kind of a good-ribboner.” Miss Georgie + hated herself for sliding into sheer flippancy, but she preferred that + extreme to the other, and she could not hold her ground just then at the + “happy medium.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What, in Heaven's name, DO you care for—besides yourself?” flared + Miss Georgie, quite humanly exasperated. “There, chicken—the heat + always turns me snappy,” she repented instantly. “Please pinch me.” She + held out a beautiful, tapering forearm, and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I'm the snappy one,” said Evadna, but she did not smile as she began + drawing on her gauntlets slowly and deliberately. + </p> + <p> + 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 section-men pumping + like demons because of the slight down grade and their haste for their + dinner. + </p> + <p> + 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 worldly-wise to + follow the trail past the store, where someone might rush out and grab him + before he could dodge away. He was a wise little pinto—Huckleberry. + </p> + <p> + “And now, I suppose I'll have the pleasure of walking home,” grumbled + Evadna, standing upon the platform and gazing, with much self-pity, after + her runaway. + </p> + <p> + “It's noon—stay 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 riding-skirt, and + went slowly down the steps. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + Evadna knew no Spanish at all. She lifted her shoulders in what might be + disdain, and made no reply whatever. + </p> + <p> + “Little idiot!” gritted Miss Georgie—and this time she was not + speaking of herself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. MISS GEORGIE ALSO MAKES A CALL + </h2> + <p> + 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 station door with the furtive air + which Miss Georgie always inwardly resented. + </p> + <p> + 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 finger-nails—she 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. + </p> + <p> + “Horribly hot, isn't it? I wish <i>I</i> could sleep till noon. It would + make the days shorter, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “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 Saunders was almost pitifully eager to be + agreeable. + </p> + <p> + “If it didn't sound cruel, this weather,” said Miss Georgie lightly, still + looking at him—or, 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 day.” + </p> + <p> + “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 had ugly, discolored teeth into the + bargain. + </p> + <p> + “I like to lay in the hay,” he added lifelessly. “I guess I'll take my bed + up there; that lean-to is awful hot.” + </p> + <p> + “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 + Shoshone, merely as a hint to Saunders to take himself away. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't been anything for me?” he asked, still lingering. + </p> + <p> + 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 barrow-load + of boxes, she switched off the current abruptly, and went over to the + window to watch him. + </p> + <p> + “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 everlasting undoing. It's better than + cipher—for I don't talk in my sleep.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At five o'clock she rose abruptly from the rocker, in which she had just + deposited herself with irritated emphasis, and wired her chief for leave + of absence until seven. + </p> + <p> + “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, nevertheless, to + self-reliant souls like the Hartley operator. + </p> + <p> + 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 treasure-trove of + flabby meat, and while he was dangling it over the barrel until the + superfluous brine dripped away, she asked him for a horse. + </p> + <p> + “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 and waited for his purchases. + </p> + <p> + “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 getting along. Exciting times down + there, from all accounts.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Saunders is asleep, very likely. If he isn't in his room, never mind + hunting him. The horse is in the stable, I suppose. I can saddle better + than Saunders.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 safe-keeping, repinned + her white sailor hat so that the hot wind which blew should not take it + off her head, and went cheerfully away to the stable. + </p> + <p> + She did not saddle the horse at once. She first searched the pile of + sweet-smelling 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. She went outside, and + looked carefully at her immediate surroundings. + </p> + <p> + “There's hardly a root of it anywhere around close,” she said to herself. + “Nor around the store, either—nor any place where one would be apt + to go ordinarily.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 tossed him the bag of + candy, and stayed upon her horse. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Peppajee? How your foot? Pretty well, mebbyso?” + </p> + <p> + “Mebbyso bueno. Sun come two time, mebbyso walk all same no snake biteum.” + Peppajee's eyes gloated over the gift as he laid it down beside him. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No can walk far.” Peppajee looked meaningly at his bandages. “No can + watchum.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but you could tell somebody else to watch him. I think he do bad + thing to the Harts. You like Harts. You tell somebody to watch Saunders.” + </p> + <p> + “Indians pikeway—ketchum fish. Come back, mebbyso tellum watchum.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie drew in her breath for further argument, decided that it was + not worth while, and touched up her horse with the whip. “Good-by,” she + called back, and saw that Peppajee was looking after her with his eyes, + while his face was turned impassively to the front. + </p> + <p> + “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 you—you + ungrateful old devil.” With which unladylike remark she dismissed him from + her mind as a possible ally. + </p> + <p> + 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 gold—or 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 done in a minute. + </p> + <p> + And since there were four boys with decided ideas upon the subject—ideas + which harmonized only in the fundamental desire to harry the interlopers, + the thing was not to be done without much time being wasted in fruitless + argument. + </p> + <p> + 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 ditch, + mostly through rocky soil. + </p> + <p> + Jack wanted to close all the headgates and just let the water go where it + wanted to—which was easy enough, but ineffective, because most of it + found its way into the ditches farther down the slope. + </p> + <p> + Gene and Clark did not much care how the thing was done—so long as + it was done their way. At least, that is what they said. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 biggest—that one under the + milk-house.” Whereat they jeered at him for wanting to be close to Evadna. + </p> + <p> + “Well, who has a better right?” he challenged, and then inconsiderately + left them before they could think of a sufficiently biting retort. + </p> + <p> + So they went to work, each in his own way, agreeing mostly in untiring + industry. That is how Miss Georgie found them occupied—except 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 + milk-house, and that he didn't believe Evadna's pet bench at the head of + the pond would be inaccessible because of his efforts. + </p> + <p> + Phoebe was sloshing around upon the flooded floor of her milk-house, 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 discomfort—of her aunt presumably, since she + herself was high and dry. + </p> + <p> + “And it won't do a BIT of good. They'll just knock that dam business all + to pieces to-night—” She was scolding Grant. + </p> + <p> + “Swearing, chicken? Things must be in a great state!” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “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 you, Grant Imsen!” + </p> + <p> + “Try it,” he invited, his eyes worshiping her in her pretty petulance. “I + wish you would.” + </p> + <p> + As Miss Georgie went past them down the steps, her face had the set look + of one who is consciously and deliberately cheerful under trying + conditions. + </p> + <p> + “Don't quarrel, children,” she advised lightly. “Howdy, Mrs. Hart? What + are they trying to do—drown you?” + </p> + <p> + “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 milk, and laughed at her own predicament. + </p> + <p> + “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 + new ditch. You know I explained just why—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know you explained just WHY,” Phoebe cut in disconsolately and + yet humorously, “but explanations don't seem to help my poor milk-house + any. And what about the garden, and the fruit, if you turn the 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 the lake you're + going to have in the pasture?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at Miss Georgie whimsically. “I'm an ungrateful, bad-tempered + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 buckets—which 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 them back on their own side of the + line.” + </p> + <p> + He picked up a floating ribbon-end 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 they, + Goldilocks?” + </p> + <p> + “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 off—she + was wax—and you always remind me of the horrible expression it gave + to her face. I'd go every day and take her out of the bureau-drawer 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 space at least eight inches wide for Miss Georgie's + accommodation. + </p> + <p> + “I can't sit anywhere,” said Miss Georgie, looking at her watch. “By the + way, chicken, did you have to walk all the way home?” + </p> + <p> + 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 thought.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 finger-tips 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 side—by the + ear, if necessary—and 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 rocks—mostly with packs + on their shoulders that don't rightly belong to them.” She sighed + impatiently. “It must be lovely to be absolutely selfish—when you're + pretty enough and young enough to make it stick!” Miss Georgie was, + without doubt, in a nasty temper that night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. SOMEBODY SHOT SAUNDERS + </h2> + <p> + 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. + One—nothing 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. Two—this exactly like the first, except that those + inseparables, Hagar, Viney, and Lucy, whom Miss Georgie had inelegantly + dubbed “the Three Greases,” appeared, silent, blanket-enshrouded, and + perspiring, at the office door in mid-afternoon. Half a box of soggy + chocolates which the heat had rendered a dismally sticky mass won from + them smiles and half-intelligible speech. Fishing was poor—no + ketchum. Three—not even the diversion of the squaws to make her + forget the dragging hours. Nothing—nothing—nothing, she told + herself apathetically when that third day had slipped upon the black cord + of a soft, warm night, star-sprinkled and unutterably lonely as it brooded + over the desert. + </p> + <p> + 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 her sleep had reached her door. + </p> + <p> + Pete Hamilton's voice, trembling with excitement, called to her. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? What has happened?” she cried from within, beset by a hundred + wild conjectures. + </p> + <p> + “Saunders—somebody shot Saunders. Wire for a doctor, quick as yuh + can. He ain't dead yet—but 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 answer to the summons. Miss Georgie made haste to follow + him. + </p> + <p> + Saunders was lying upon a blanket on the store platform, and Miss Georgie + shuddered as she looked at him. + </p> + <p> + He was pasty white, and his eyes looked glassy under his half-closed 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 section-hands, the Chinese cook at + the section-house, and the Swede foreman, and Pete seemed quite at a loss + what to do. + </p> + <p> + “Take him in and put him to bed,” Miss Georgie commanded, turning away. + “See if he's bleeding yet, and—well, I should put a cold compress on + the wound, I think. I'll send for a doctor—but he can't get here + till nine o'clock unless you want to stand the expense of a special. And + by that time—” + </p> + <p> + 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 she + waited for an answer. + </p> + <p> + “G-r-a-n-” her fingers had spelled when she became conscious of the fact, + flushed hotly, and folded her hands tightly together in her lap. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor will come—Hawkinson, 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + Especially did she search the loose, sandy soil in its vicinity for + tracks. + </p> + <p> + 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 follow—or 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 smooth-packed hollow in the + sand where he must have lain. + </p> + <p> + “He's got nerve—I'll say that much for him,” she observed aloud, and + went on. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “The—deuce!” 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 woman whom one expects to shed tears for + slight cause. + </p> + <p> + “If you did it—and you must have—I 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 disappointment also. + </p> + <p> + “Did what—to whom—to 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, Squaw-talk-far-off?” He ducked and peered into her face again, + and again his face sobered. “What's the matter?” he asked, in an entirely + different tone—which Miss Georgie, in spite of her mood, found less + satisfying than his banter. + </p> + <p> + “Saunders—OUCH; I'd as soon be scalped and done with, as to have you + pull out a hair at a time—Saunders crawled home with a bullet in his + ribs. And I thought—” + </p> + <p> + “Saunders!” Good Indian stared down at her, his hands dropped upon her + head. + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie reached up, caught him by the wrists, and held him so while + she tilted her head that she might look up at him. + </p> + <p> + “Grant!” she cried softly. “He deserved it. You couldn't help it—he + 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 you—or that + anyone would if they knew the truth. I came out to see—I just HAD to + make sure—but you must get away from here. You shouldn't have stayed + so long—” Miss Georgie gave a most unexpected sob, and stopped that + she might grit her teeth in anger over it. + </p> + <p> + “You think I shot him.” As Good Indian said it, the sentence was merely a + statement, rather than an accusation or a reproach. + </p> + <p> + “I don't blame you. I suspected he was the man up here with the rifle. + That day—that first day, when you told me about someone shooting at + you—he came over to the station. And I saw two or three scraps of + sage sticking under his shirt-collar, 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—” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't tell me.” And this time he spoke reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “It was after you had left that I saw it. And I did go down to the ranch + to tell you. But I—you were so—occupied—in other + directions—” She let go his wrists, and began fumbling at her hair, + and she bowed her head again so that her face was hidden from him. + </p> + <p> + “You could have told me, anyway,” Good Indian said constrainedly. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't want her to know. I couldn't, before her. And I didn't want to—hurt + her by—” Miss Georgie fumbled more with her words than with her + hair. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there's no use arguing about that.” Good Indian also found that + subject a difficult one. “You say he was shot. Did he say—” + </p> + <p> + “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 look—I've seen them in wrecks, and I know. He won't talk; he + can't. But there'll be an investigation—and 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 handle.” + </p> + <p> + “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 hairs + wound up,” he grumbled. + </p> + <p> + “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, anyway—witness the way you bawled him out that day + you roped—ow-w!—roped the dog. Baumberger may have wanted him + to keep an eye on you—My Heavens, man! Do you think you're plucking + a goose?” + </p> + <p> + “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 + you—and 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 still—but I suppose you can't. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” he remarked casually, after a short silence, save for an + occasional squeal from Miss Georgie, “speaking of Saunders—I didn't + shoot him.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie looked up at him, to the further entanglement of her hair. + “You DIDN'T? Then who did?” + </p> + <p> + “Search ME,” he offered figuratively and briefly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will.” Miss Georgie spoke with a certain decisiveness, and + reaching out a sage-soiled hand, took his gun from the holster at his hip. + He shrank away with a man's instinctive dislike of having anyone make free + with his weapons, but it was a single movement, which he controlled + instantly. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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 witness-box—I + 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 rod with you,” she added, + “which would hardly be likely.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + “Twenty-four—that fast freight—is 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.” + </p> + <p> + “I was under the impression that my name is Grant—to friends.” + </p> + <p> + “My name is 'Dennis,' if I don't beat that freight,” she retorted curtly. + “Take your knife and give me a hair cut—quick! I can do it a + different way, and cover up the place.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right—but it's a shame to leave a nice bunch of hair like + this hanging on a bush.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, what were you doing up here, Grant? And what are you going to do + now? We haven't much time, and we've been fooling when we should have been + discussing 'ways and means.'” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I got up early, and someone took a shot at me again. This time he + clipped my hat-brim.” 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 sight—we'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. + </p> + <p> + “Now, duck away down—oh, 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 want to get hung up somewhere + again.” + </p> + <p> + She stood up straight, with a long, deep sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + “Now, pikeway,” he smiled. “And don't run bareheaded through the bushes + again. You've still got time to beat that train. And—about Saunders—don't + worry. I can get to the ranch without being seen, and no one will know I + was up here, unless you tell them.” + </p> + <p> + “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 me—and + leave tracks all over the country. Keep on the lava rock. Haven't you got + any sense at all?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't time,” Miss Georgie decided. “I can easily get around that, + if it's put up to me. You go on back. Really, you must!” her eyes implored + him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, vey-ree well. We haven't met this morning. Good-by, + Squaw-talk-far-off. I'll see you later, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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, sage-covered hill to the west. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. A BIT OF PAPER + </h2> + <p> + Good Indian came out upon the rim-rock, 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 back from the rim of the bluff. + </p> + <p> + “You no shout,” she murmured gravely. “No lettum see you here. You go + quick. Ketchum you cayuse, go to ranch. You no tellum you be this place.” + </p> + <p> + Good Indian stood still, and looked at her. She stood with her arms folded + in her blanket, regarding him with a certain yearning steadfastness. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + Good Indian reached out, and caught her by both shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Rachel—if you did that, don't tell me about it. Don't tell me + anything. I don't ask you—I 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 begin to tremble under his fingers, and he stopped as suddenly + as he had begun. + </p> + <p> + “You no glad? You think shame for me? You think I—all time—very—bad!” + Tragedy was in her voice, and in her great, dark eyes. Good Indian gulped. + </p> + <p> + “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 anything about it, why—I + wouldn't know anything about it. You sabe.” + </p> + <p> + “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 kill-dead. All time Man-that-coughs 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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 soft-footedly 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 look, and went + on, and turned no more toward her until he reached his horse. + </p> + <p> + “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. Good—by.” He mounted, and rode away. He felt, just + then, that it was the kindest thing he could do. + </p> + <p> + 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. He swung his heels against Keno's flanks, + and rode home. + </p> + <p> + 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 + worrying him. + </p> + <p> + “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 water-tank. “Saunders died a few minutes ago. Pete says you + better notify the coroner—and I reckon the sheriff, too. Pretty + tough to be shot down like that in broad daylight.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I'd rather be shot in daylight than in the dark,” Miss Georgie + snapped unreasonably because her nerves were all a-jangle, and sent the + messages as requested. + </p> + <p> + 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 + which attends death in any form. + </p> + <p> + A dozen Indians hung about the store, the squaws peering inquisitively in + at the uncurtained window of the lean-to—where the bed held a long + immovable burden with a rumpled sheet over it—and the bucks + listening stolidly to the futile gossip on the store porch. + </p> + <p> + 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 on—and though + Pete did not say that Saunders chose to die when the stock of paper novels + was exhausted, he left that impression upon his auditors. + </p> + <p> + 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 + wards. + </p> + <p> + 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 stable-door, in a due + line southeast from the hay-corral, and that one shot had been fired from + it, there were Indians in plenty to glance furtively at the weapon and + give no sign. + </p> + <p> + 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 without further fussing over evidence, at the + verdict of suicide. + </p> + <p> + 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 Saunders' + passing, so far as the law was concerned. + </p> + <p> + “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 way—for he certainly must have known + enough to put Baumberger behind the bars. + </p> + <p> + “But I don't see,” she said, in a puzzled way, “how that gun came onto the + scene. I looked all around the stable this morning, and I could swear + there wasn't any gun.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he did pick it up—fortunately,” Good Indian returned grimly. + “I'm glad the thing was settled so easily.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him sharply for a moment, opened her lips to ask a + question, and then thought better of it. + </p> + <p> + “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 four-thirty-five is due pretty soon—and I have + oodles of work.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her strangely, and went away, wondering why Miss Georgie + hated so to have him in the office lately. + </p> + <p> + 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, and ready to do her a good turn because of her interest. + </p> + <p> + 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 bright-eyed + papoose in scanty raiment, who stopped to regard him inquisitively. + </p> + <p> + “I just saw them bury Saunders,” Good Indian remarked, by way of opening a + conversation. “You believe he shot himself?” + </p> + <p> + Peppajee took his little stone pipe from his lips, blew a thin wreath of + smoke, and replaced the stem between his teeth, stared stolidly straight + ahead of him, and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “All the white men say that,” Good Indian persisted, after he had waited a + minute. Peppajee did not seem to hear. + </p> + <p> + “Sheriff say that, too. Sheriff found the gun.” + </p> + <p> + “Mebbyso sheriff mans heap damfool. Mebbyso heap smart. No sabe.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Rachel?” he asked suddenly, the words following involuntarily his + thought. + </p> + <p> + Peppajee sucked hard upon his pipe, took it away from his mouth, and + knocked out the ashes upon a pole of the wikiup frame. + </p> + <p> + “Yo' no speakum Rachel no more,” he said gravely. “Yo' ketchum 'Vadnah; no + ketchum otha squaw. Bad medicine come. Heap much troubles come. Me no + likeum. My heart heap bad.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm Rachel's friend, Peppajee.” Good Indian spoke softly so that others + might not hear. “I sabe what Rachel do. Rachel good girl. I don't want to + bring trouble. I want to help.” + </p> + <p> + Peppajee snorted. + </p> + <p> + “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 speakum Rachel no more, yo' be friend. + </p> + <p> + “Yo' speakum, me like to kill yo', mebbyso.” He spoke calmly, but none the + less his words carried conviction of his sincerity. + </p> + <p> + 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 eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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 trouble.” He stopped and listened, but there was no sound + within. + </p> + <p> + Peppajee eyed him comprehendingly, but there was no yielding in his brown, + wrinkled face. + </p> + <p> + “Yo' Rachel's frien', yo' pikeway,” he insisted doggedly. + </p> + <p> + 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 Indian closed his hand upon it, and stood up. + </p> + <p> + “All right, I go,” he said calmly to Peppajee, and mounted. + </p> + <p> + Peppajee looked at him stolidly, and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “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 you no + help?” + </p> + <p> + Peppajee's mouth straightened in a grin of pure irony. + </p> + <p> + “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 go. Me no + care.” + </p> + <p> + “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 + unfolded it carefully and looked at it long. + </p> + <p> + 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 wrapping—paper. It said + simply: + </p> + <p> + “God by i lov yo.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. THE MALICE OF A SQUAW + </h2> + <p> + 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 by the corner of the + house, and listened shamelessly. + </p> + <p> + “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 mischief-making old hag, and she—oh, + I'd like to beat her!” + </p> + <p> + Hagar shook her head violently, and her voice rose shrill and malicious, + cutting short Evadna's futile defiance. + </p> + <p> + “Ka-a-ay bueno, yo'!” Her teeth gnashed together upon the words. “I no + tellum lie. Good Injun him kill Man-that-coughs. 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 Man-that-coughs. I tellum—” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you, then, when the sheriff was in Hartley?” Evadna flung at + her angrily. “Because you know it's a lie. That's why.” + </p> + <p> + “Yo' thinkum Good Injun love yo', mebbyso.” Hagar's witch-grin was at its + malevolent widest. Her black eyes sparkled with venom. “Yo' heap fool. + Good Injun go all time Squaw-talk-far-off. Speakum glad word. Good Injun + ka-a-ay bueno. Love Squaw-talk-far-off. 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 doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you listen to her, honey.” It was Phoebe's turn to reassure. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian took a step forward, his face white with rage. Viney saw him + first, muttered an Indian word of warning, and the three sprang up and + backed away from his approach. + </p> + <p> + “So you've got to call me a murderer!” he cried, advancing threateningly + upon Hagar. “And even that doesn't satisfy you. You—” + </p> + <p> + Evadna rushed up the steps like a crisp little whirlwind, and caught his + arm tightly in her two hands. + </p> + <p> + “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 us—what she says. <i>I</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 of his face frightened her. + </p> + <p> + Old Hagar spat viciously at them both, and shrilled vituperative sentences—in + 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 dialect of her tribe. + </p> + <p> + “Yo' tellum me shont-isham. Mebbyso yo' tellum yo' no ketchum + Squaw-talk-far-off in sagebrush, all time Saunders go dead! Me ketchum + hair—Squaw-talk-far-off hair. You like for see, you thinkum me tell + lies?” + </p> + <p> + From under her blanket she thrust forth a greasy brown hand, and shook + triumphantly before them a tangled wisp of woman's hair—the hair of + Miss Georgie, without a doubt. There was no gainsaying that color and + texture. She looked full at Evadna. + </p> + <p> + “Yo' like see, me show whereum walk,” she said grimly. “Good Injun boot + make track, Squaw-talk-far-off little shoe make track. Me show, yo' + thinkum mebbyso me tell lie. Stoppum in sagebrush, ketchum hair. Me + ketchum knife—Good Injun knife, mebbyso.” Revenge mastered cupidity, + and she produced that also, and held it up where they could all see. + </p> + <p> + Evadna looked and winced. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe a word you say,” she declared stubbornly. “You STOLE that + knife. I suppose you also stole the hair. You can't MAKE me believe a + thing like that!” + </p> + <p> + “Squaw-talk-far-off 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 in that one particular. + </p> + <p> + “Squaw-talk-far-off sabe Good Injun killum Man-that-coughs, mebbyso,” she + hazarded, watching Good Indian's face cunningly to see if the guess struck + close to the truth. + </p> + <p> + “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 + you—because you're such a devil I couldn't stop short of killing + you, once I laid my hands on you.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Pikeway!” he commanded. + </p> + <p> + 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 then—did Hagar—and + waddled after the others, her whole body seeming to radiate contentment + with the evil she had wrought. + </p> + <p> + “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 story—not that anyone would believe it, but—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I hate Indians—squaws 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 murder you. It's in her to do + it, if she ever got the chance.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you suppose made her ring Georgie Howard in like that?” Phoebe + speculated, looking at Grant. “She must have some grudge against her, + too.” + </p> + <p> + “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 they + show up at the station.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—h!” Evadna gave the word that peculiar, sliding inflection of + hers which meant so much, and regarded him unwinkingly, with her hands + clasped behind her. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian knew well the meaning of both her tone and her stare, but he + only laughed and caught her by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “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, Goldilocks—we haven't had a real satisfying sort of + scrap for several thousand years.” + </p> + <p> + She permitted him to lead her to the hammock, and pile three cushions + behind her head and shoulders—with the dark-blue one on top because + her hair looked well against it—and dispose himself comfortably + where he could look his fill at her while he swung the hammock gently with + his boot-heel, 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 finger-tip in turn, she + was as passive as a doll under the caresses of a child. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” he demanded, when he found that her manner did not + soften. “Worrying still about what that old squaw said?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the slightest.” Evadna's tone was perfectly polite—which was + a bad sign. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian thought he saw the makings of a quarrel in her general + attitude, and he thought he might as well get at once to the real root of + her resentment. + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking about? Tell me, Goldilocks,” he coaxed, pushing his + own troubles to the back of his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering—though it's a trivial matter + which is hardly worth mentioning—but I just happened to wonder how + you came to know that Georgie Howard is in the habit of giving candy to + the squaws—or anything else. I'm sure I never—” She bit her + lips as if she regretted having said so much. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian laughed. In truth, he was immensely relieved; he had been + afraid she might want him to explain something else—something which + he felt he must keep to himself even in the face of her anger. But this—he + laughed again. + </p> + <p> + “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 me—I 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 law—used 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 doing about it. That's + what's keeping him, of course. + </p> + <p> + “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 have mo believe you could possibly be + jealous!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Evadna, in a more amiable tone. “Of course I'm not. But I do + think you showed a—well, a lack of confidence in me. I don't see why + <i>I</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 + instance—why 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 know. And you see—” + </p> + <p> + 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 she + had started out to say. + </p> + <p> + “You see, that gave old Hagar a chance to accuse you of—well, 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! + And—Grant, where DID she get hold of that knife, do you suppose—and—that—bunch + of—hair?” 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 it certainly WAS Georgie's hair.” + </p> + <p> + “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, but seeing it wasn't YOUR hair—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I've got to go up on the hill again right after dinner, + Squaw-with-sun-hair,” 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 shows that the hour had not been spent in quarreling, at all + events. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't realize how hot it is,” he discouraged. + </p> + <p> + “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 squaw—the one + that caught Huckleberry the other day, you know—would 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 you + were, and looked so—” + </p> + <p> + “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, all right, when the old + man's gone. We'll go up this evening, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + Evadna eyed him with open suspicion, but if she could read his real + meaning from anything in his face or his eyes or his manner, she must have + been a very keen observer indeed. + </p> + <p> + 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 + difference if Miss Georgie did not hear of it immediately. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. PEACEFUL RETURNS + </h2> + <p> + That afternoon when the four-thirty-five 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. + </p> + <p> + Behind him perspired Baumberger, purple from the heat and the beer with + which he had sought to allay the discomfort of that searing sunlight. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Miss Georgie?” he wheezed, as he passed the window. “Ever see such + hot weather in your life? <i>I</i> never did.” + </p> + <p> + 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 loose-lipped 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. + </p> + <p> + “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 for the present. + </p> + <p> + “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 Hamilton was resting after the excitement of the past + thirty-six hours. + </p> + <p> + “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, + white-bearded old man thought her a meddlesome fool. + </p> + <p> + “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 + drawled, and waited placidly for her to speak. + </p> + <p> + “You just about swear by old Baumberger, don't you?” she began presently, + fiddling with her lead pencil and going straight to the heart of what she + wanted to say. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I dunno. I've kinda learned to fight shy of swearing by anybody, + Miss Georgie.” His mild blue eyes settled attentively upon her flushed + face. + </p> + <p> + “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 + placer-claim 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 technically within + their rights in making lawful improvements on their claims. + </p> + <p> + “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, + I suppose. I know the whole eight have been up—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they've all filed—twenty acres apiece—the 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 + discouragement in his voice which it hurt Miss Georgie to hear. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they've got to prove that those claims of theirs are lawful, you + know. And if you've got your patent for the homestead—you have got a + patent, haven't you?” Something in his face made her fling in the + question. + </p> + <p> + “Y-es—or I thought I had one,” he answered dryly. “It seems now + there's a flaw in it, and it's got to go back to Washington and be + rectified. It ain't legal till that's been done.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie half rose from her chair, and dropped back despairingly. “Who + found that mistake?” she demanded. “Baumberger?” + </p> + <p> + “Y-es, 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 + course. Baumberger was real put out about it.” + </p> + <p> + “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 death.” She turned and faced + Peaceful anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “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 reason—perhaps + because Grant has shown his hostility from the first. Did you know + Saunders—or someone—has been shooting at Grant from the top of + the bluff for—well, ever since you left? The last shot clipped his + hat-brim. Then Saunders was shot—or shot himself, according to the + inquest—and there has been no more rifle practice with Grant for the + target.” + </p> + <p> + “N-no, 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 case—Black. + 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 does—but I don't. Not by a + long shot. Black'll ferret out any crooked work.” + </p> + <p> + “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 I—well, I struck up a mild sort of flirtation with + the operator at Shoshone.” She smiled deprecatingly at Peaceful. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to find out—and 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 news-agent + and cigar man—you know that kind of joint, where they sell paper + novels and magazines and tobacco and such—getting 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 that—but 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.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie laughed ruefully, and patted her pompadour absent-mindedly. + </p> + <p> + “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 easy-tempered!” She went and looked out of the + window again uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “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 longer—he's looking + this way pretty often, I notice; nothing but the beer-keg holds him, I + imagine. And when he empties that—” She shrugged her shoulders, and + sat down facing Hart. + </p> + <p> + “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 ranch—but 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 + catch him napping, Mr. Hart.” + </p> + <p> + Peaceful rose stiffly,—and took up his hat from where he had laid it + on the table. + </p> + <p> + “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 taking such an interest—and + I'll tell Black about Jim Wakely.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't build any hopes on Jim,” she warned. “He probably doesn't know + anything except that he sent and received messages he couldn't read any + sense into.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—there'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, old-fashioned bow, and went over to join + Baumberger—and to ask Pete Hamilton for the use of his team and + buckboard. + </p> + <p> + 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 office door, because she felt that + she was being watched. + </p> + <p> + “How, Hagar, and Viney, and Lucy,” she greeted languidly when she saw the + three squaws sidle closer, and reached for a bag of candy for them. + </p> + <p> + 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 + time it was not empty. + </p> + <p> + “Ketchum sagebrush,” she announced laconically. “Mebbyso yo' like for + buy?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie stared fixedly at the hand, and said nothing. Hagar drew it + under her blanket, held it fumbling there, and thrust it forth again. + </p> + <p> + “Ketchum where ketchum hair,” she said, and her wicked old eyes twinkled + with malice. “Mebbyso yo' like for buy?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie still stared, and said nothing. Her under lip was caught + tightly between her teeth by now, and her eyebrows were pulled close + together. + </p> + <p> + “Ketchum much track, same place,” said Hagar grimly. “Good Injun makeum + track all same boot. Seeum Good Injun creep, creep in bushes, all time + Man-that-coughs 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 tell, + mebbyso.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie felt blindly for her chair, and when she touched it she + backed and sank into it rather heavily. She looked white and sick, and + Hagar eyed her gloatingly. + </p> + <p> + “Yo' no like for Good Injun be killum rope,” she chuckled. “Yo' all time + thinkum heap bueno. Mebbyso yo' love. Yo' buy? Yo' payum much dolla?” + </p> + <p> + 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 bright-red ribbons braided into her shining black + hair, and great, sad eyes brightening the dull copper tint of her face. + </p> + <p> + “You no be 'fraid,” she murmured shyly to Miss Georgie, and stopped where + she was just inside the door. “You no be sad. No trouble come Good Injun. + I friend.” + </p> + <p> + 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 her chin at Miss Georgie. + </p> + <p> + “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 Man-that-coughs.” Turning, she waddled out, jabbing + viciously at the young squaw with her elbow as she passed, and spitting + out some sort of threat or command—Miss Georgie could not tell + which. + </p> + <p> + The young squaw lingered, still gazing shyly at Miss Georgie. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie stood by the window with her fingernails making little red + half-moons 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 + “Ah-h-CHUCK! ah-h-CHUCK!” of the steam pump down the track, and to the + spasmodic clicking of an order from the dispatcher to the passenger train + two stations to the west. + </p> + <p> + 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 + the office. + </p> + <p> + 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 saddle-horse; 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. “I'D JUST AS SOON HANG FOR NINE MEN AS FOR ONE” + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo,” he growled, stopping short and eying him malevolently with + lowered head. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian's lips curled silently, and he stepped aside to pursue his + way. Baumberger swung his huge body toward him. + </p> + <p> + “I said HULLO. Nothin' wrong in that, is there? HULLO—d'yuh hear?” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the devil!” said Grant shortly. + </p> + <p> + Baumberger leered at him offensively. “Pretty Polly! Never learned but one + set uh words in his life. Can't yuh say anything but 'Go to the devil!' + when a man speaks to yuh? Hey?” + </p> + <p> + “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 point if I were you.” + </p> + <p> + “Giving me advice, hey? And who the devil are you?” + </p> + <p> + “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 the + side of a barn if he'd been locked inside it. You ought to have made sure—” + </p> + <p> + Baumberger glared at him, and then lunged, his eyes like an animal gone + mad. + </p> + <p> + “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 Injun—and if he couldn't, I can! Yuh + WILL watch me, hey?” + </p> + <p> + 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. Heat-mad and + drink-mad 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 one of + his catlike motions, pulled a gun, and fired without really taking aim. + </p> + <p> + 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 boys—Wally 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. Peaceful stood beside the team, with the + lines still in his hand. + </p> + <p> + It was Miss Georgie's words which reached him clearly. + </p> + <p> + “You just HAD to do it, Grant. I saw the whole thing. You HAD to.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Grant—GRANT! What have you done? What have you done?” That was + Phoebe Hart, saying the same thing over and over with a queer, moaning + inflection in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “D'yuh KILL him?” Gene shouted excitedly, as he ran up to the spot. + </p> + <p> + “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 the road in the direction of the garden. + </p> + <p> + “He's mad! The boy is mad! He's going to kill—” Phoebe gave a sob, + and ran after him, and with her went Miss Georgie and Evadna, white-faced, + all three of them. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, boys—he's going to clean out the whole bunch!” whooped + Gene. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 lightning-stricken 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 unobtrusively ready for whatever might be going to happen. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian appraised the situation with a quick glance as he came up, but + he did not slacken his pace until he was within ten feet of Stanley. + </p> + <p> + “You're across the dead line, m' son,” said Stanley, with lazy + significance. “And you, too,” he added, flickering a glance at Miss + Georgie. + </p> + <p> + “The dead line,” said Good Indian coolly, “is beyond the Point o' Rocks. + I'd like to see you on the other side by sundown.” + </p> + <p> + Stanley looked him over, from the crown of his gray hat to the tips of his + riding-boots, and laughed when his eyes came back to Good Indian's face. + But the laugh died out rather suddenly at what he saw there. + </p> + <p> + “Got the papers for that?” he asked calmly. But his jaw had squared. + </p> + <p> + “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 face—and Stanley's + right hand, too, perhaps. “If you don't want the same medicine, I'd advise + you to quit.” + </p> + <p> + Stanley's jaw dropped, but it was surprise which slackened the muscles. + </p> + <p> + “You—shot—” + </p> + <p> + “Baumberger. I said it.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll hang for that,” Stanley stated impersonally, without moving. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian smiled, but it only made his face more ominous. + </p> + <p> + “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 soon,” he added composedly, “be hanged + for nine men as for one.” + </p> + <p> + 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 gun-butts. + Old Peaceful half-raised his rifle, and held it so. It was like being + compelled to watch a fuse hiss and shrivel and go black toward a keg of + gun-powder. + </p> + <p> + “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 + personal resentment in tone or manner, and raked the match along his + thigh. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian's shoulders went up a little. + </p> + <p> + “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 + friends—and NO ONE ELSE. Tell that to your pals, unless you've got a + grudge against them!” + </p> + <p> + 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 + business proposition. + </p> + <p> + 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 sight of something she was carrying in her hand, + and he gave a short laugh. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing with that thing?” he asked peremptorily. + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie blushed very red, and slid the thing into her pocket. + </p> + <p> + “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 Stanley—when you turned your back on him.” + </p> + <p> + Good Indian stopped, looked at her queerly, and went on again without + saying a word. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. “WHEN THE SUN GOES AWAY” + </h2> + <p> + “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 seeing + such things happen—” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” Good Indian asked tersely, and was answered immediately by + the sound of sobbing on the east porch. The three went together, but it + was Grant who reached her first. + </p> + <p> + “Don't cry, Goldilocks,” he said tenderly, bending over her. “It's all + right now. There isn't going to be any more—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Don't TOUCH me!” She sprang up and backed from him, horror plain in + her wide eyes. “Make him keep away, Aunt Phoebe!” + </p> + <p> + Good Indian straightened, and stood perfectly still, looking at her in a + stunned, incredulous way. + </p> + <p> + “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 woman—I'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.” + </p> + <p> + “He—KILLED 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 mark—where he grazed my arm! And he LAUGHED about it! I + called him a savage then—and I was RIGHT—only he can be so + nice when he wants to be—and I forgot about the Indian in him—and + then he killed Mr. Baumberger! He's lying out there now! I'd rather DIE + than let him—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie clapped a hand over her mouth, and stopped her. Also, she + gripped her by the shoulder indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “'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 image—didn't you ever see a case of + nerves before? She doesn't know what she's saying—if she did, she + wouldn't be saying it. You go on, and let me handle her alone. Men are + just a nuisance in a case like this.” + </p> + <p> + 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 must + not take Evadna seriously, because she did not. + </p> + <p> + “We'd better take her to her room, Mrs. Hart,” she suggested, “and make + her lie down for a while. That poor fellow—as if he didn't have + enough on his hands without this!” + </p> + <p> + “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! I—” + </p> + <p> + “For Heaven's sake, don't shout it,” Miss Georgie interrupted, + exasperatedly. “Do you want him—” + </p> + <p> + “To hear? <i>I</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—” + </p> + <p> + “He had to do it. Baumberger would have killed HIM. He had a perfect right + to kill. He'd have been a fool and a coward if he hadn't. You come and lie + down a while.” + </p> + <p> + “I WON'T lie down. I don't care if he did have to do it—I couldn't + love him afterward. And he didn't have to go down there and threaten + Stanley—and—HE'LL DO IT, TOO!” She fell to trembling again. + “He'll DO it—at sundown.” + </p> + <p> + Phoebe and Miss Georgie looked at each other. He would, if the men stayed. + They knew that. + </p> + <p> + “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 me—Oh, + what does he think I AM?” She leaned against the wall, and sobbed. + </p> + <p> + “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 + was up there killing Saunders—” + </p> + <p> + “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 had been a ten-year-old child in a + tantrum. + </p> + <p> + “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 and—STAY there. Do + you hear? And don't you dare let another yip out of you till you can talk + sense.” + </p> + <p> + 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 room—it + sounded almost as if she dragged her there by force—and 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 been itching for something like this ever since the trouble + started. + </p> + <p> + 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 something—something that would hurt him more than + he had been hurt since his father died in that same house. But in the + meantime he need only think. + </p> + <p> + The shadow of the grove, with the long fingers of the 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 lily-pad 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. + </p> + <p> + Phoebe came out from the sitting-room, ran down the steps, and barred his + way. + </p> + <p> + “Grant!” she said, and there were tears in her eyes, “don't do anything + rash—don't. If it's for our sakes—and I know it is—don'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!” + </p> + <p> + He looked down at her commiseratingly. “I've got to go, Mother Hart. I've + made my war-talk.” He hesitated, bent his head, and kissed her on the + forehead as she stood looking up at him, and went on. + </p> + <p> + “Grant—GRANT!” she cried heartbrokenly after him, and sank down on + the porch-steps with her face hidden in her arms. + </p> + <p> + Miss Georgie was standing beside the gate, looking toward the stable. She + may not have been waiting for him, but she turned without any show of + surprise when he walked up behind her. + </p> + <p> + “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 dead-line + by sundown. There goes Stanley now. Do you really feel that your future + happiness depends on getting through this gate? Well—if you must—” + She swung it open, but she stood in the opening. + </p> + <p> + “Grant, I—it's hard to say just what I want to say—but—you + did right. You acted the man's part. No matter what—others—may + 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, to—to help—you'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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It's a shame you 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 fight—and there did seem to be the makings + of a beautiful row!” + </p> + <p> + 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 could + not have told that Miss Georgie remembered anything tragic. + </p> + <p> + But Good Indian seemed to recall something, and went quickly over to her + just in time to prevent her starting. + </p> + <p> + “Was there something in particular you wanted when you came?” he asked, + laying a hand on the neck of the bay. “It just occurred to me that there + must have been.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned so that the others could not hear, and her face was grave + enough now. + </p> + <p> + “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 them—the old blackmailer! She made + threats, Grant—about Saunders. She says you—I 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. What shall I tell her? + We can't have that story mouthed all over the country.” + </p> + <p> + Good Indian twisted a wisp of mane in his fingers, and frowned + abstractedly. + </p> + <p> + “If you'll ride on slowly,” he told her, at last straightening the twisted + lock, “I'll overtake you. I think I'd better see that old Jezebel myself.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + he were thinking deeply. Perhaps he was glad to be let off so easily. + </p> + <p> + “Abandoning my claim,” he announced, lightly as a man of his prosaic + temperament could speak upon such a subject. “Dern poor placer mining down + there, if yuh want to know!” + </p> + <p> + 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 beside + him. And the woman understood, and was glad that she was there. + </p> + <p> + From the Indian camp, back in the sage-inclosed hollow, rose a sound of + high-keyed wailing. The two heard it, and looked at each other + questioningly. + </p> + <p> + “Something's up over there,” Good Indian said, answering her look. “That + sounds to me like the squaws howling over a death.” + </p> + <p> + “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 + into the camp. + </p> + <p> + 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 him instead. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter here, Peppajee?” he asked. “Heap trouble walk down at + Hart Ranch. Trouble walk here all same, mebbyso?” + </p> + <p> + Peppajee looked at him sourly, but the news was big, and it must be told. + </p> + <p> + “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 eatum—all time heap sad. Ketchum bad spirit, mebbyso. + Ketchum debbil. Sun go 'way, ketchum knife, go Hagar wikiup. Killum Hagar—so.” + He thrust out his arm as one who stabs. “Killum himself—so.” He + struck his chest with his clenched fist. “Hagar heap dead. Rachel heap + dead. Kay bueno. Mebbyso yo' heap bad medicine. Yo' go.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. LIFE ADJUSTS ITSELF AGAIN TO SOME THINGS + </h2> + <p> + 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 rim-rock 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. + </p> + <p> + As for the killing of Baumberger, public opinion tried—with the aid + of various plugs of tobacco and much expectoration—the case and + rendered a unanimous verdict upon it long before the coroner arrived. + “Done just right,” was the verdict of Public Opinion, and the + self-constituted 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 + courage to defend himself and those dear to him from a great danger. + </p> + <p> + With everything so agreeably disposed of according to the crude—though + none the less true, perhaps—ethics 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 + official approval. + </p> + <p> + 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 the rough box was lowered to the station + platform. + </p> + <p> + As the sky clears and grows blue and deep and unfathomably peaceful after + a storm, as trees wind-riven straighten and nod graciously to the little + cloud-boats that sail the blue above, and wave dainty finger-tips 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 train—which + bore the coroner and that other quiet passenger—came faintly down + over the rim-rock, settle with a sigh of relief into its old, easy habits + of life. + </p> + <p> + All, that is, save Good Indian himself, and perhaps one other. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Peaceful cleared his white mustache and beard from a few stray drops of + coffee and let his mild blue eyes travel slowly around the table, from one + tanned young face to another. + </p> + <p> + “Now the excitement's all over and done with,” he drawled in his + half-apologetic 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 spoiled already; but the small fruit can be saved.” + </p> + <p> + “Clark and I was going up to the Injun camp,” spoke up Gene. “We wanted to + see—” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to do some riding to get there,” Good Indian informed them + dryly. “They hit the trail before sunrise this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Huh! What were YOU doing up there that time of day?” blurted Wally, eying + him sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Watching the sun rise.” His lips smiled over the retort, but his eyes did + not. “I'll lower the water in your milk-house now, Mother Hart,” he + promised lightly, “so you won't have to wear rubber-boots 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 + long-handled shovel is?” Again he eyed Evadna without seeming to see her + at all. + </p> + <p> + “If it isn't down at the stable,” said Jack soberly, “or by the + apple-cellar 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 slammed, and Jack laughed with his eyes fast shut and three + dimples showing. + </p> + <p> + Evadna sank listlessly into her chair and regarded him and all her little + world with frank disapproval. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my WORD, I don't see how anybody can laugh, after what has happened + on this place,” she said dismally, “or—WHISTLE, after—” Her + lips quivered a little. She was a distressed Christmas angel, if ever + there was one. + </p> + <p> + Wally snorted. “Want us to go CRYING around because the row's over?” he + demanded. “Think Grant ought to wear crepe, I suppose—because he + ain't on ice this morning—or 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 + Wally to make, and he made it with deliberate malice. + </p> + <p> + “Now you're shouting!” applauded Gene, also with the intent to be + shocking. + </p> + <p> + “THAT'S the stuff,” approved Clark, grinning at Evadna's horrified eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Grant can run over me sharp-shod 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 + hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Good Injun's the stuff, all right. He'd 'a' licked the hull damn—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Donny, be careful what language you use,” Phoebe admonished, and so + cut short his high-pitched song of praise. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care—I 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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 her—which he did. Evadna shivered, pressed her + wisp of handkerchief against her lips, and left the table hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “You boys ought to be ashamed of yourselves!” Phoebe scolded + half-heartedly; 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 life—unless he was laid out in church with + flower-anchors piled knee-deep all over him. And to see one shot right + before her very eyes—and by the man she expects—or did expect + to marry—why, 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” observed Wally in the manner of delivering an ultimatum, “excuse + ME from any Eastern raising!” + </p> + <p> + A little later, Phoebe boldly invaded the secret chambers of Good Indian's + heart when he was readjusting the rocks which formed the floor of the + milk-house. + </p> + <p> + “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 + maybe.” + </p> + <p> + “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 voice. + </p> + <p> + “About Vadnie—and you. I notice you don't speak—you haven't + that I've seen, since that day—on 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, Grant—and 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. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian got up and put his arms around her and held her close. He did + not say anything at all for a minute, but when he did he spoke very + quietly, stroking her hair the while. + </p> + <p> + “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 + savage—an Indian. My mother's mother was the daughter of a chief. + She was a good woman; my mother was a good woman; just as good as if she + had been white. + </p> + <p> + “Mother Hart, I'm a white man in everything but half my mother's blood. I + don't remember her—but 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 and—and take her in my arms—and love + her, knowing that she feels as she does? She can't even forgive me for + killing that beast! + </p> + <p> + “She's a beautiful thing—I 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 drip-dripped to the pool below. + </p> + <p> + “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 of—oh, + 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. + </p> + <p> + “She won't speak to me,” he continued after a short silence. “I tried to + talk to her yesterday—” + </p> + <p> + “But you must remember, the poor child was hysterical that day when—she + went on so. She doesn't know anything about the realities of life. She + doesn't mean to be hard.” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday,” said Grant with an odd little smile, “she was not hysterical. + It seems that—shooting—was 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 + her—and I didn't satisfactorily explain about that hair and knife + that Hagar had. And—oh, it isn't the killing, altogether! I guess we + were both a good deal mistaken in our feelings.” + </p> + <p> + “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 extravagance—she + shook her head at it. That was not what she had been taught to call love, + and she wondered how a man and a maid could be mistaken about so vital an + emotion. + </p> + <p> + “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 MISTAKEN!” + </p> + <p> + Good Indian gave her one of his quick, sidelong glances. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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! + Bull-headed, I'd call her.” She looked at Good Indian afterward, studying + his face with motherly solicitude. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you're half in love with her right now and don't know it!” she + accused suddenly. + </p> + <p> + Good Indian laughed softly and bent to his work again. + </p> + <p> + “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 long—only <i>I</i> + don't call it love! You might tell me—” + </p> + <p> + “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 his fingers impatiently so that the + last drops hurried to the pool. + </p> + <p> + “She's a good girl, and a brave girl,” Phoebe remarked irrelevantly. + </p> + <p> + 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 surrender. + </p> + <p> + “Squaw-talk-far-off heap smart,” he mimicked old Peppajee gravely. “Heap + bueno.” He stood up as suddenly as he had started his rock-lifting 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 whimsically. “Give a fellow time to roll a cigarette, can't + you?” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Good Indian, by B. M. 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Bower + +Posting Date: July 26, 2008 [EBook #938] +Release Date: June, 1997 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOOD INDIAN *** + + + + +Produced by Ken Smidge + + + + + +GOOD INDIAN + +by B. M. Bower + +1912 + + + + +Contents: + + I PEACEFUL HART RANCH + II GOOD INDIAN + III OLD WIVES' TALES + IV THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL + V "I DON'T CARE MUCH ABOUT GIRLS" + VI THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL PLAYS GHOST + VII MISS GEORGIE HOWARD, OPERATOR + VIII THE AMIABLE ANGLER + IX PEPPAJEE JIM "HEAP SABES" + X MIDNIGHT PROWLERS + XI "YOU CAN'T PLAY WITH ME" + XII "THEM DAMN' SNAKE" + XIII CLOUD-SIGN VERSUS CUPID + XIV THE CLAIM-JUMPERS + XV SQUAW-TALK-FAR-OFF HEAP SMART + XVI "DON'T GET EXCITED!" + XVII A LITTLE TARGET PRACTICE + XVIII A SHOT FROM THE RIM-ROCK + XIX EVADNA GOES CALLING + XX MISS GEORGIE ALSO MAKES A CALL + XXI SOMEBODY SHOT SAUNDERS + XXII A BIT OF PAPER + XXIII THE MALICE OF A SQUAW + XXIV PEACEFUL RETURN + XXV "I'D JUST AS SOON HANG FOR NINE MEN AS FOR ONE" + XXVI "WHEN THE SUN GOES AWAY" + XXVII LIFE ADJUSTS ITSELF AGAIN TO SMALL THINGS + + + + +GOOD INDIAN + + + + +CHAPTER I. PEACEFUL HART RANCH + +It was somewhere in the seventies when old Peaceful Hart woke to a +realization that gold-hunting and lumbago do not take kindly to one +another, and the fact that his pipe and dim-eyed 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 new-made 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 with and fed, but enemies to be fought, upon occasion. + +They felt that fate had cheated them--did 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 mildest-mannered +man who ever helped to tame the West when it really needed taming, had +somehow fathered five riotous young males to whom fight meant fun--and +the fiercer, the funnier. + +He used to suck at his old, straight-stemmed 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 pale-blue eyes dwell speculatively +upon the face of his wife, Phoebe. Clearly he considered that she was +responsible for their dispositions. + +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, and stole bread from Phoebe's +pantry at night--but that is a story in itself. + +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 buttermilk, and cream. + +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 fingers, far up the bluff when +the sun sank low in the afternoon. + +Behind them grew a small jungle of trees-catalpa and locust among +them--a jungle which surrounded the house, and in summer hid it from +sight entirely. + +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 the frosts came, and +the bees, and humming--birds 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 +planned it for the daughters he had been denied. + +It was an ideal place for hammocks and romance--a place where dainty +maidens might dream their way to womanhood. And Peaceful Hart, when all +was done, grew old watching five full-blooded 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 if he wondered whether, after all, it had +been worth while. + +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 nature. Outside the +fence dwelt sturdier, Western realities. + +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 new-gathered from the orchard or a place at Phoebe's long +table in the great kitchen. + +There was the stone blacksmith shop, where the boys sweated over the +nice adjustment of shoes upon the feet of fighting, wild-eyed horses, +which afterward would furnish a spectacle of unseemly behavior under the +saddle. + +Farther away were the long stable, the corrals where broncho-taming 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 skyline. + +A glint of slithering green showed where the Snake hugged the bluff a +mile away, and a brown trail, ankle-deep in dust, stretched straight out +to the west, and then lost itself unexpectedly behind a sharp, jutting +point of rocks where the bluff had thrust out a rugged finger into the +valley. + +By devious turnings and breath-taking climbs, the trail finally reached +the top at the only point for miles, where it was possible for a +horseman to pass up or down. + +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 settlement or ranch. + +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 Ranch, conjured from the sage and the +sand in the valley of the Snake. + + + +CHAPTER II. GOOD INDIAN + +There is a saying--and if it is not purely Western, it is at least +purely American--that the only good Indian is a dead Indian. In the very +teeth of that, and in spite of the fact that he was neither very good, +nor an Indian--nor in any sense "dead"--men called Grant Imsen "Good +Indian" to his face; and if he resented the title, his resentment was +never made manifest--perhaps 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 man--though they also spoke +of him unthinkingly as "Good Injun." + +Because old Wolfbelly himself would grudgingly admit under pressure +that the mother of Grant had been the half-caste 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 his--not +even his assured position there could keep him from sometimes feeling +quite alone, and perhaps a trifle bitter over his loneliness. + +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 one of the gold coins in schooling. + +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 claim--others he had which promised little and so +did not count--he 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 faced--incredulously, as is the way +with strong men--the 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 hands, and stared +intently from one face to the other. + +"Mis' Hart, he ain't got--anybody--my folks--I lost track of 'em years +ago. You see to it--git some learnin' in his head. When a man knows +books--it's--like bein' heeled--good gun--plenty uh ca't'idges--in +a fight. When I got that gold--it was like fightin' with my bare +hands--against a gatlin' gun. They coulda cheated me--whole thing--on +paper--I wouldn't know--luck--just luck they didn't. So you take it--and +git the boy schoolin'. Costs money--I know that--git him all it'll +buy. Send him--where they keep--the best. Don't yuh let up--n'er let +him--whilst they's a dollar left. Put it all--into his head--then he +can't lose it, and he can--make it earn more. An'--I guess I needn't +ask yuh--be good to him. He ain't got anybody--not a soul--Injuns don't +count. You see to it--don't let up till--it'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 to--and 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 immediate vicinity. + +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 him. + +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 sage-clothed 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 bitterness. + +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 +blanket and frowsy braids. + +"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 living. + +"Huh! All same buy one good hoss." The braided one dropped the hat, +hitched his blanket over his shoulder in stoical disregard of the heat, +and turned away. + +Pete replaced the cover, seemed about to place the box upon the shelf +behind him, and then evidently decided that it was not worth the effort. +He sighed again. + +"It is almighty hot," he mumbled languidly. "Want another drink, Good +Injun?" + +"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 cellar where it isn't two +hundred in the shade. Why don't you?" + +"We was going to get ice t'day, but they didn't throw it off when the +train went through." + +"That's comforting--to a man with a thirst like the great Sahara. Ice! +Pete, do you know what I'd like to do to a man that mentions ice after a +drink like that?" + +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 going--for a drink out of that spring, if nothing else. +You've lost a good customer to-day, Pete. I rode up here prepared to get +sinfully jagged--and here I've got to go on a still hunt for water with +a chill to it--or maybe buttermilk. Pete, do you know what I think of +you and your joint?" + +"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 post-office. "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 +bareheaded, and carried a door key suspended from a smooth-worn bit of +wood. + +"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 +late--as 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 knows--and 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 post-office, bored beyond words with life as it must be +lived--to judge from her tone and her attitude. + +"For Heaven's sake, Pete," she went on languidly, "can't you scare up a +novel, or chocolates, or gum, or--ANYTHING to kill time? I'd even enjoy +chewing gum right now--it would give my jaws something to think of, +anyway." + +Pete, grinning indulgently, came out of retirement behind the +pigeonholes, and looked inquiringly around the store. + +"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 is something to read. Haven't you +even got an almanac?" + +"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 above, those two hours!" She +struck both fists despairingly upon the counter. + +"I've got gumdrops, and fancy mixed--" + +"Forget it, then. A five-pound box of chocolates is due--on 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 desperate I am for something to do!" + +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 In--er--Mr. 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 +twenty-three years old." He felt that the inference was too plain to be +ignored. + +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 +really pathetic." + +Pete bristled--as much as a fat man could bristle on so hot a day. +"Well, you said you wanted to flirt, and so I took it for granted you'd +like--" + +Good Indian looked straight past the girl, and scowled at Pete. + +"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 off exactly. Who +is this Mr. Imsen?" + +She got no reply to that. Indeed, she did not wait for a reply. Outside, +things were happening--and, since Miss Georgie was dying of dullness, +she hailed the disturbance as a Heaven-sent blessing, and ran to see +what was going on. + +Briefly, Grant had inadvertently stepped on a sleeping dog's paw--a 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 haste. + +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 drew it tight. + +Saunders, a weak-lunged, bandy-legged 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 +tender-heartedness, waved his arms and called aloud in the name of +peace. + +"Turn him loose, I tell yuh! A helpless critter like that--you oughta be +ashamed--abusin' dumb animals that can't fight back!" + +"Oh, can't he?" Grant laughed grimly. + +"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 able-bodied man, I'd get you, +too--just to have a pair of you. Yelping, snapping curs, both of you." +He played the dog as a fisherman plays a trout. + +"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 +indifferently. + +"Sure it isn't old Hagar's?" + +"No b'long-um Hagar--b'long-um Viney. Viney heap likum." + +Grant hesitated, circling erratically with his victim close to the +steps. "All right, no killum--teachum lesson, though. Viney heap bueno +squaw--heap 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 shoulder--blades. "Come +along, doggie--NICE 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 the Indian camp must be. + +Old Wolfbelly had but that morning brought his thirty or forty followers +to camp in the hollow where was a spring of clear water--the 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 +he 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 laughed outright at the +panic of them. + +"Hello! Viney! I brought back your dog," he drawled. "He tried to bite +me--heap kay bueno* dog. Mebbyso you killum. Me no hurtum--all 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 dog--sabe? No keep--Kay bueno. All time try for bite. You +cookum, no can bite. Sabe?" + +*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 phrase, their like or dislike of an +object or person. + +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 some mail for +the Harts, and turned back to get it. + +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 +dining-car conductor to throw off a chunk of ice. Grant, therefore, led +his horse around into the shade, and made himself comfortable while he +waited. + + + +CHAPTER III. OLD WIVES TALES + +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 of the dog was fresh in their minds +and tickling their tongues. + +The Hart boys were assembled at the corral, halter-breaking a +three-year-old 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 grinned--grinned 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 fourteen-year-old irrepressibility. "Does +anybody know where Vadnie is? If we could spring 'em on her and make her +believe they're on the warpath--say, I'll gamble she'd run clear to the +Malad!" + +"I told her, cross my heart, this morning that the Injuns are peaceful +now. I said Good Injun was the only one that's dangerous--oh, 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 relish. + +"Aw--there'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 gabble--there's old Hagar waddling along like +a duck. You can't make that warpath business stick, Clark--not 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 hour--she's churning, Don--you hide in the rocks by the +milk-house 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 horse-breaking; and for the present Clark held his +peace. + +The squaws hovered there for a moment longer, peeping through the rails. +Then Hagar--she of much flesh and more temper--grunted 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 +which demands that one wait until invited to enter a strange camp. + +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 self-conscious assurance, and led the way +soft-footedly 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 butter-ladle to shake hands all +around. + +"How, Hagar? How, Viney? How, Lucy? Heap glad to see you. Bueno +buttermilk--mebbyso 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 outstretched--though 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 blanket across their +milk-white lips, and grinned in pure animal satisfaction. + +"Bueno. He-e-ap bueno!" they chorused appreciatively, and squatted at +the top of the stone steps, watching Phoebe manipulate the great ball of +yellow butter in its wooden bowl. + +After a brief silence, Hagar shook the tangle of unkempt, black hair +away from her moonlike face, and began talking in a soft monotone, her +voice now and then rising to a shrill singsong. + +"Mebbyso Tom, mebbyso Sharlie, mebbyso Sleeping Turtle all time come +along," she announced. "Stop all time corral, talk yo' boys. Mebbyso +heap likum drink yo' butter water. Bueno." + +When Phoebe nodded assent, Hagar went on to the news which had brought +her so soon to the ranch--the news which satisfied both an old grudge +and her love of gossip. + +"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 shoot--kay bueno. Wantum fight +Man-that-coughs. Come all time camp, heap yell, heap shoot some more. I +fetchum dog--Viney dog--heap dragum through sagebrush--dog all time cry, +no can get away--me thinkum kill that dog. Squaws cry--Viney cry--Good +Injun"--Hagar paused here for greater effect--"makum horse all time +buck--ridum in wikiup--Hagar wikiup--all time breakum--no can fix that +wikiup. Good Injun, hee-e-ap 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 dog--me think no catchum. Grant all same my +boy. All time me likum--heap bueno." + +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 stubborn under lip. + +"Wally boy, heap bueno," she said; and her malicious old face softened +as she spoke of him, dear as her own first-born. "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, hee-ee-eap kay bueno. Good +Injun Grant all time DEBBIL!" + +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 better-hearted +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 liked Grant. + +"Viney, you tell me. Grant no come Hartley, no drunk, no yell, no +catchum you dog, no ride in Hagar's wikiup? You tell me, Viney." + +Viney and Lucy bobbed their heads rapidly up and down. Viney, with a +sidelong glance at Hagar, spoke softly. + +"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 dog--dog kay bueno, mebbyso me +killing. Good Injun Grant no heap yell, no shoot all time--mebbyso no +drunk. No breakum wikiup. Horse all time kay bueno, Hagar--" + +"Shont-isham!" (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, +despaired of getting any nearer the truth from any of them. + +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 voice--for the squaws knew well the few women +voices along the Snake. + +"That my girl," Phoebe explained, stopping the soft pat--pat of her +butter-ladle. + +"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 +boys--mebbyso 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 +mother--all 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 importance; but Phoebe was accustomed to treat them like spoiled +children. + +Hagar's lip was out-thrust again. "Yo' ketchum one girl, mebbyso yo' no +more likum my boy Wally. Kay bueno." + +"Heap like all my boys jus' same," Phoebe hastened to assure her, and +added with a hint of malice, "Heap like my boy Grant all same." + +"Huh!" Hagar chose to remain unconvinced and antagonistic. "Good Injun +kay bueno. Yo' girl, mebbyso kay bueno." + +"What name yo' girl?" Viney interposed hastily. + +"Name Evadna Ramsey." In spite of herself, Phoebe felt a trifle chilled +by their lack of enthusiasm. She went back to her butter-making in +dignified silence. + +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 right--perhaps 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 by fate, stirred slightly, her nostrils aquiver. + +"Mebbyso bueno yo' girl," she yielded, speaking softly. "Mebbyso see +yo' girl." + +Phoebe's face cleared, and she called, in mellow crescendo: "Oh, +Va-ad-NIEE?" Immediately the singing stopped. + +"Coming, Aunt Phoebe," answered the voice. + +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 of antagonism +even to the soft eyes of Lucy, the tender, childless one. + +"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 you--and don't look so horrified, +honey!" + +Those incorrigibles, her cousins, would have whooped with joy at her +unmistakable terror when she held out a trembling hand and gasped +faintly: "H-how do you--do?" + +"This Hagar," Phoebe announced cheerfully; and the old squaw caught the +girl's hand and gripped it tightly for a moment in malicious enjoyment +of her too evident fear and repulsion. + +"This Viney." + +Viney, reading Evadna's face in one keen, upward glance, kept her hands +hidden in the folds of her blanket, and only nodded twice reassuringly. + +"This Lucy." + +Lucy read also the girl's face; but she reached up, pressed her hand +gently, and her glance was soft and friendly. So the ordeal was over. + +"Bring some of that cake you baked to-day, honey--and 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 +blankets into place, and vanished, soft-footed as they had come. + +"Oo-oo!" Evadna stared at the place where they were not. "Wild +Indians--I thought the boys were just teasing when they said so--and +it's really true, Aunt Phoebe?" + +"They're no wilder than you are," Phoebe retorted impatiently. + +"Oh, they ARE wild. They're exactly like in my history--and they don't +make a sound when they go--you just look, and they're gone! That old fat +one--did you see how she looked at me? As if she wanted to--SCALP me, +Aunt Phoebe! She looked right at my hair and--" + +"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 get used to them--" + +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 milk-house, he dragged the +squaw along beside the porch, followed by the Indians and all the Hart +boys, a yelling, jeering audience. + +"You tell her shont-isham! Ah-h--you can't break loose, you old +she-wildcat. Quit your biting, will you? By all the big and little +spirits of your tribe, you'll wish--" + +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 unsentient stone. + +"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 Hart--didn'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 +yell--all time bueno.' Quick, or I'll land you headforemost in that +pond, you infernal old hag!" + +"Good Injun hee-eeap kay bueno! Heap debbil all time." Hagar might be +short of breath, but her spirit was unconquered, and her under lip bore +witness to her stubbornness. + +Phoebe caught him by the arm then, thinking he meant to make good his +threat--and it would not have been unlike Grant Imsen to do so. + +"Now, Grant, you let her go," she coaxed. "I know you aren't drunk--of +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, Grant--a man +can't fight a woman--" + +"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 shoe--shook her till her hair quite hid her ugly old face from +sight. + +"All right--Mother 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 shont-isham. Him all +time my friend--mebbyso him no likum you no more. + +"Huh. Get out--pikeway before I forget you're a lady!" + +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 milk-house wall; and when they were gone, he +gave a short, apologetic laugh. + +"No need to lecture, Mother Hart. I know it was a fool thing to do; but +when Donny told me what the old devil said, I was so mad for a minute--" + +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 kitchen-door shut, and the click of the lock. +He heard other doors slam suggestively; and he laughed in spite of his +astonishment. + +"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 ranch--and 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 like--" + +"Yes--sure. But who is the timid lady?" + +"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--" + +Wally Hart came back, laughing to himself. + +"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 alive--she 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, mum--she said so. You're kay bueno yourself, because you take Good +Indian's part. We're all kay bueno--all 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 yuh do to her, anyway?" + +"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 +days--if 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 Viney, So I just led him gently to camp." + +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 wikiup--and one sniff seemed to be +about all he wanted. He didn't hurt anything." + +He took a meditative bite of cake, finished the buttermilk in three +rapturous swallows, and bethought him of the feminine mystery. + +"If you please, Mother Hart, who was that Christmas angel I squashed?" + +"Vad? Was Vad in on it, mum? I never saw her." Wally straightened up +with a fresh chunk of cake in his hand. "Was she scared?" + +"Yes," his mother admitted reluctantly, "I guess she was, all right. +First the squaws--and, poor girl, I made her shake hands all round--and +then Grant here, acting like a wild hyena--" + +"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 I should have appeared at my best. But who she is, or where she +belongs--" + +"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 her--and 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 stranger--a girl especially. And I did hope Grant would behave +better." + +"Sure, he ought to. Us boneheads don't know any better--but Grant's +EDUCATED." Wally grinned and winked elaborately at his mother's back. + +"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 months or so, you wouldn't +know the girl," Phoebe argued, with some heat. + +"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 war-whoop outa me, she'd look at me--the 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 the truth. + + + +CHAPTER IV. THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL + +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 +thing--but 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 nice--she's most too nice. I've got to give that girl a +good talking to." + +She mounted the steps to the back porch, tried the 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 next. + +"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 old-fashioned 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 +brown-and-white calico dress close about her plump person, and crawled +grimly through into the sitting-room, where, to the distress of Phoebe's +order-loving soul, the carpet was daily well-sanded with the tread of +boys' boots fresh from outdoors, and where cigarette stubs decorated +every window-sill, 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 good-natured threats of various sorts, had never before barred the +way of any man, be he red or white, came he at noon or at midnight. + +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 +pillow. + +"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 the barricaded door; and in a minute a vividly blue eye appeared at +a narrow crack. + +"Oh, I don't see how you dare to L-LIVE in such a place, Aunt Phoebe!" +she cried tearfully, opening the door a bit wider. "Those Indians--and +that awful man--" + +"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 +gentle--it'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 done a thing to them--but they're +horrid and rough, anyway--" + +"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 you--I 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. You--you'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 +with a moist ball of handkerchief. + +"I know they don't, honey." Phoebe patted her hand reassuringly. "That's +what I want you to help me teach my boys--to be real gentlemen. They're +pure gold, every one of them; but I can't deny they're pretty rough on +the outside sometimes. And I hope you will be--" + +"Oh, I know. I understand perfectly. You just got me out here as a--a +sort of sandpaper for your boys' manners!" Evadna choked over a little +sob of self-pity. "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 sensitive, because he feels his loneliness. No one +understands him as I do--" + +"I hate him!" gritted Evadna, in an emphatic whisper which her Aunt +Phoebe thought it wise not to seem to hear. + +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 bed. + +"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 you'll not disappoint her. +You'll try; won't you, Vadnie?" + +"Y--yes," 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 +none--there wasn't anything mushy about them that I ever heard of." + +"Mushy! MUSHY!" Evadna sat up and stared at nothing at all while she +repeated the word under her breath. "She wants me to be gentle--she +preached gentleness in her letters, and told how her boys need it, and +then--she calls it being MUSHY!" + +She reached mechanically for her hair-brush, and fumbled in a tumbled +mass of shining, yellow hair quite as unbelievable in its way as were +her eyes--Grant had shown a faculty for observing keenly when he called +her a Christmas angel--and 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 +frankness, "and tarantulas and snakes--but--MUSHY!" + +Grant stood smoking in the doorway of the sitting-room, 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 +walked straight over to him. + +"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 employ--but his eyes turned for a +sidelong glance at her, although he appeared to be watching the trout +rise lazily to the insects skimming over the surface of the water. + +"I'm supposed to be nice to you--par-TIC-ularly nice--because 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 you--I 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 dislike you all the time." + +Grant's lips twitched, and there was a covert twinkle in his eyes, +though he looked around him with elaborate surprise. + +"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 benefited--his teeth will be dulled for his +prey, his voice softened for the nightcry--if he should ever, by chance, +discover that the Christmas angel is there." + +"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." + +Grant turned his head indolently and regarded her. + +"If it isn't a Christmas angel--they're always very blue and very +golden, and pinky-whitey--if 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 +beyond his solving, and flicked the ashes from his cigarette. + +"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 squashed?" + +"I just wish to goodness I had! Only I suppose Aunt Phoebe--" + +"I do believe it's got a temper. I wonder, now, if it could be a LIVE +angel?" Grant spoke to the softly swaying poplars. + +"Oh, you--there 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 +whether I'm alive!" she panted vindictively. + +"It's alive, and it's a humming-bird. 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 humming-birds--so simple and so harmless!" + +"And I've promised to be nice to--THAT!" 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, and landed lightly upon her slippered feet. + +"I hate you--hate you--HATE YOU!" she cried, her eyes blazing up at his +amused face before she ran off among the trees. + +"It sings a sweet little song," he taunted, and his laughter followed +her mockingly as she fled from him into the shadows. + +"What's the joke, Good Injun? Tell us, so we can laugh too." Wally +and Jack hurried in from the kitchen and made for the doorway where he +stood. + +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 as a sleepy bird's fluttering wings. + +"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 grove, "we certainly did go some!" + + + +CHAPTER V. "I DON'T CARE MUCH ABOUT GIRLS" + +"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 trouble--and, besides, they're scared of dad. I was +talking to Sleeping Turtle just now--met him down there past the Point +o' Rocks." + +"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 her--say, 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 milk-house," Wally suggested dryly. + +"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 the dead, she did!" + +"Kill the traitor! Down with him! Curses on the man who betrays us!" +growled Wally, waving his cigarette threateningly. + +Whereupon Gene and Clark seized the offender by heels and shoulders, and +with a brief, panting struggle heaved him bodily off the porch. + +"Over the cliff he goes--so may all traitors perish!" Wally declaimed +approvingly, drawing up his legs hastily out of the way of Jack's +clutching fingers. + +"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 supper--and, 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 blanket, and to have one right at +her elbow--wonder where she is--" + +"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, yes--sure. Jack's coming down with it already. You oughta be +quarantined, old-timer; 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 sitting-room 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 hard together. She did not look, at that moment, in the least +degree "mushy." + +When the triangle clanged its supper call, however, she came slowly down +from her favorite nook at the head of the pond, her hands filled with +flowers hastily gathered in the dusk. + +"Here she comes--let'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 sugar-bowl was going after, when she settled herself and her ruffles +daintily between Grant and a braided, green-blanketed, 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 +sugar-bowl 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. All 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 more--kay 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 wachee-typo" (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 of an affectation with Peppajee. + +"My brother, my brother's wife, my brother's wife's--ah--" 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 tea--ketchum +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. + +"Isn't it a shame they should do that," she murmured sympathetically. + +"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." Evadna +blushed, and looked studiously at her plate. + +"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 tea--them folks all time eatum grub, me no +ketchum. Me no playum cards, all same otha fella ketchum my grub. Kay +bueno. Better me playum cards mebbyso all time. + +"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 old-fashioned, silver castor which always +stood in the exact center of the table. + +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 face aslant. It was Good Indian who rebuked the offender. + +"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, whose grin was growing rather pronounced. + +"Huh. Mebbyso you boss all same this ranch?" Peppajee retorted sourly. +"Mebbyso Peacefu' tellum, him no likum." + +Peaceful, thus drawn into the discussion, cleared his throat again. + +"Wel-l-l--WE 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 bad, Peppajee." + +"Huh. Me no makum squaw-talk." Peppajee laid down his knife, lifted a +corner of his blanket, and drew it slowly across his stern mouth. He +muttered a slighting sentence in Indian. + +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 away from the dogged silence of that blanketed figure at her +elbow. + +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 doubt--and +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 by the +arm. In the half--light she knew him then. It was Grant. + +"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 the porch, as usual, in a minute; so hurry." + +"I hope it's something very important," Evadna hinted ungraciously. +"Nothing else would excuse this high-handed proceeding." + +When they had reached the great rock where the pond had its outlet, +and where was a rude seat hidden away in a clump of young willows just +across the bridge, he answered her. + +"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 +favor--I 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 +things--a savage among the rest--I don't like to feel such a brute as +to make war on a girl that seems to be getting it handed to her right +along." + +He tardily lighted his cigarette and sat smoking beside her, the tiny +glow lighting his face briefly now and then. + +"When I was joshing you there before supper," he went on, speaking low +that he might not be overheard--and ridiculed--from 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, +why--common 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 statement lessens my dislike of +you--" + +"Not at all." Grant interrupted her. "Go right ahead and hate me, if you +feel that way. It won't matter to me--girls never did concern me much, +one way or the other. I never was susceptible to beauty, and that seems +to be a woman's trump card, always--" + +"Well, upon my word!" + +"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 that--my sympathies are always with the under dog, anyway, +and they're five to one. But that needn't mean that I'm--that 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 other--you from 'common humanity,' and I because I +promised Aunt Phoebe." + +"We-e-l!--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 fight back--the +man who won't isn't a normal human being." + +"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 different." + +"Oh, it's different! I see. I have almost forgotten something I ought +to say, Mr. Imsen. I must thank you for--well, for defending me to that +Indian." + +"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 account, in particular." + +"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 into Peppajee." + +"That's different." She laughed shortly and left him, running swiftly +through the warm dusk to the murmur of voices at the house. + +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 moment up at the treetops swaying languidly just under the stars. + +"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 consider the matter very serious, after all. + + + +CHAPTER VI. THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL PLAYS GHOST + +At midnight, the Peaceful Hart ranch lay broodily quiet under its +rock-rimmed bluff. Down in the stable the saddle-horses were but +formless blots upon the rumpled bedding in their stalls--except +Huckleberry, the friendly little pinto with the white eyelashes and the +blue eyes, and the great, liver-colored 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 silent ranch. + +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 +half-heartedly at an early mosquito that was humming in his ear. He +reached out, and jogged the shoulder of him who snored. + +"Say, Gene, if you've got to sleep at the top of your voice, you better +drag your bed down into the orchard," he growled. "Let up a little, +can't yuh?" + +"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 can't--" + +"Ah-h-EE-EE!" 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. + +"Bobcat," whispered Clark, in a tone which convinced not even himself. + +"In a pig's ear," flouted Gene, under his breath. He leaned far over and +poked his finger into a muffled form. "D'yuh hear that noise, Grant?" + +Grant sat up instantly. "What's the matter?" he demanded, rather +ill-naturedly, if the truth be told. + +"Did you hear anything--a funny noise, like--" + +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 nerve-wrackingly, and then wailed mournfully down to +silence. Afterward, while their ears were still strained to the sound, +the bobcat squalled an answer from among the rocks. + +"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 you going to do about it?" + +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 out upon a great lily--pad and +croaked dismally. + +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 deep-throated ARR-RR-UMPH 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 +freed himself stealthily from a blanketfold. + +"If that spook don't talk Indian when it's at home, I'm very much +mistaken," he whispered to Clark, who was nearest. "You boys stay here." + +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 shadow-flecked patch of +moonlight. Crouching low in the shade of a clump of bushes, Grant stole +toward the spot. + +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. Once more he heard the dismal cry, and fancied it held a +mocking note. + +"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 there--he 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 going quietly; what counted most was +speed. + +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 catch some +sound to guide him. + +"Well, anyhow, I didn't kill him," he muttered uneasily as he crawled +through a fence into the orchard. "He's making a pretty swift get-away +for a fellow that's been shot." + +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 a little. + +"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 raiment tangled up in a +barbed-wire fence." + +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. They stared at each other, breathing hard from more than the +race they had run. + +"Well--I'll--be--" Grant began, in blank amazement. + +She wriggled her chin in his palm, trying to free herself from his +pitiless staring. Failing that, she began to sob angrily without any +tears in her wide eyes. + +"You--shot me, you brute!" she cried accusingly at last. "You--SHOT 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 stone-heap, and pulled her +down beside him, still holding her fast, as if he half believed her +capable of soaring away over the treetops, after all. + +"I guess I didn't murder you--from the chase you gave me. Did I hit you +at all?" + +"Yes, you did! You nearly broke my arm--and you might have killed me, +you big brute! Look what you did--and 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 hole right through Aunt Phoebe's sheet!" +she added, with tearful severity. + +He caught her arm, bent his head over it--and 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 lifted it again, and regarded the wound with +mournful interest. + +"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 wrapped up in a sheet," he retorted +ungallantly. + +"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, anyway." + +"Will you tell me what you DID do it for? Of all the silly tomfoolery--" + +An impish smile quite obliterated the Christmas-angel look for an +instant, then vanished, and left her a pretty, abused maiden who is +grieved at harsh treatment. + +"Well, I wanted to scare Gene," she confessed. "I did, too. I just know +he's a cowardy-cat, because he's always trying to scare ME. It's Gene's +fault--he told me the grove is haunted. He said a long time ago, before +Uncle Hart settled here, a lot of Indians waylaid a wagon-train 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 around--only 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 satisfaction. + +"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 girls--you 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 choose--and 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 like a white man." + +"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 up--the INDIAN?" + +She cast a swift, half-frightened 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 have to deal with--the Indian." + +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 nature--why, 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 were sorry." + +"I'm not in the habit of saying all I think and feel." + +"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, you--you--well, you act like the savage you are! There, +now! It may not be nice to say it, but it's the truth." + +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 Indian--because my mother was +a half-breed." 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 eyes, and softened. + +"Oh, you're a girl, and you demand the usual amount of poor-pussy 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 well--and I'm not a kissing +young man, either, let me tell you." + +"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. + +As the wires snapped into place, she halted and looked back at him. + +"Maybe I've been mean--but you're been meaner," she summed up, in +self-justification. "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 to--tell. 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 fence-post, 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 jagged-rimmed bluff standing +boldly up against the star-flecked sky. Then he shook himself +impatiently, muttered something which had to do with a "doddering fool," +and retraced his steps quickly through the orchard, the currant bushes, +and the strawberry patch, jumped the ditch, and so entered the grove and +returned to his blankets. + +"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 shoot--what was it? Did +you find out?" + +"It wasn't anything," said Grant shortly, tugging at a boot. + +"Ah--there was, too! What was it you shot at?" Clark joined in the +argument from the blackness under the locust tree. + +"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 +foster-brother. "Something yelled like--" + +"You never heard a screech-owl before, did you, Gene?" Grant crept +between his blankets and snuggled down, as if his mind held nothing more +important than sleep. + +"Screech-owl my granny! You bumped into something you couldn't +handle--if 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 was it?" + +He waited a moment without getting a reply. + +"Well, keep your teeth shut down on it, then, darn yuh!" he growled. +"That's the Injun of it--I know YOU! Screech-owl--huh! You said when you +left it was an Indian--and 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 +you--and if there was one acting up around here, we knew blamed well it +was on your account for what happened to-day. 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 get--and 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 again. + +The result proved the sort of fellow he was. Clark shut up without even +trailing off into mumbling to himself, as was his habit when argument +brought him defeat. + + + +CHAPTER VII. MISS GEORGIE HOWARD, OPERATOR + +"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." + +"WHAT--happened last night?" Evadna wore her Christmas-angel expression; +and her tone was the sweet, insipid tone of childlike innocence. + +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 +it. + +"There was a noise when the moon had just come up--didn'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 fight when he came back, and he's pulled out this morning--" + +"Do you mean to tell me--did you see it, really?" + +"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 winced +perceptibly. "What yuh jumping for? You didn't see anything, did you?" + +"No; but--was there REALLY something?" Evadna freed herself as +unobtrusively as possible, and looked at him with wide eyes. + +"You ask Clark. He'll tell you--maybe. Good Injun's scared clean off the +ranch--you 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 +it. They believe in spirits and signs and things." + +Evadna turned thoughtful. "And didn't he tell you what he--that is, if +he found out--you said he went after it--" + +"He wouldn't say a blamed thing about it," Gene complained sincerely. +"He said there wasn't anything--he told us it was a screech-owl." + +"Oh!" Evadna gave a sigh of relief. "Well, I'm going to ask Clark what +it was--I'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 +there--without even your mother with you!" + +She smiled the credulous smile of ignorant innocence and pulled the gate +open. + +"Jack promised to take me up to Hartley to-day," 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 perambulations entirely to the conventional +midnight hour." + +Gene did not make any reply. Indeed, he seemed wholly absorbed in +staring after her and wondering just how much or how little of it she +meant. + +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 herself with the simple, unqualified +statement that she was glad of it. + +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 post-office +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 tolerance. + +"When you get ready to go home, you can come to the store," he said +bluntly. "Huckleberry wouldn't stand here if you hog-tied him. Just +remember that if you ever ride up here alone--it might save you a walk +back. And say," he added, with a return of his good-natured grin, "it +looks like you and Good Injun didn't get acquainted yesterday. I thought +I saw mum give him an introduction to you--but I guess I made a mistake. +When you come to the store, don't let me forget, and I'll do it myself." + +"Oh, thank you, Jack--but it isn't necessary," chirped Evadna, and left +him with the smile which he had come to regard with vague suspicion of +what it might hide of her real feelings. + +Two squaws sat cross-legged 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 +by Miss Georgie Howard, then in one of her daily periods of intense +boredom. + +"My, my, but you're an angel of deliverance--and 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 +interesting," she added musingly. + +"Don't let me interrupt you," Evadna began primly. "I only came for a +money order--Aunt Phoebe's sending for--" + +"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 mentally--only I've tagged you +long ago." + +"I thought you were the express agent. Aunt Phoebe said--" + +"Nice, truthful Aunt Phoebe! I am, but I'm out--officially. I'm several +things, my dear; but, for the sake of my own dignity and self-respect, +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 agent. I admit it. But this +isn't one of the times." + +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 way--I'm not anything official right now. +I'm a neighbor, and this is my parlor--you 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 the agent is out." + +"Well, upon my word!" Evadna permitted herself that much emotional +relief. Then she leaned her head against the cherry-colored head-rest +tied to the chair with huge, cherry-colored bows, and took a deliberate +survey of the room. + +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 small-paned windows gave one sitting before the 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, +"Express Office: Hours, 8 A.M. to 6 P.M." on a card above it. + +Under a small window opening upon the platform was another little table, +with indications of occasional ticket-selling 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 sewing-basket, 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 her--head three times, and her eyes were mirthful. "It's a game. +I made it a game. I had to, in self-defense. 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 yourself holding it down for longer than a week? +I've been here a month." + +"I think," Evadna ventured, "it must be fun." + +"Oh, yes. It's fun--if 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 chair, "it will illustrate just how I manage my system." + +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: + +"OUT. WILL BE BACK LATER." + +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 box--the five pounds of chocolates which she had sent +for. + +"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 stand--and for Heaven's sake, gossip a little! Tell me all +about that bunch of nifty lads I see cavorting around the store +occasionally--and especially about the polysyllabic gentleman who seems +to hang out at the Peaceful Hart ranch. I'm terribly taken with him. +He--excuse 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 "parlor" breathing quickly. + +"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 they were saying--but I couldn't even guess." + +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 sometimes--in self-defense. There are two or three fresh +young men along the line that can't seem to take a hint unless you knock +them in the head with it." + +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 store--ah--" 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 failure--um--'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, would--or could--say that without studying it +first. It sounded awfully impromptu and easy--and yet he looks--well, +cowboyish. What sort of a young man is he?" + +"He's a perfectly horrid young man." Evadna leaned to help herself to +more chocolates. "He--well, just to show you how horrid, he calls me +a--a Christmas angel! And--" + +"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 office--I'd know +his touch among a million--and 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 whimsically. "What's that card for, I wonder?" + +She threw the switch, rattled a reply, and then, as the sounder settled +down to a steady click-clickety-click-click, 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 weak-eyed, hollow-chested +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 receipt-book, 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 +would you rather stay here? I won't be more than two minutes." + +She was gone five; and she returned with a preoccupied air which lasted +until she had disposed of three chocolates and was carefully choosing a +fourth. + +"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 again--and 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 human in the least like him. Did you? So +absolutely--ah--inscrutable, let us say." + +"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 +me--told me, mind you--that he doesn't like women. He actually warned +me against thinking his politeness--if he ever is polite, which I +doubt--means 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 should be my revenge." + +"I don't want any revenge. I simply want nothing to do with him. I don't +want to speak to him, even." + +"He's awfully good--looking," mused Miss Georgie. + +"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 love--and never give up; +unless the loved one disappointed him in some way; and then he'd be +strong enough to go his way and not whine about it. I do hate a whiner! +Don't you?" + +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 off--it'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 smoke-grimed window until a +movement warned her that he was through. + +"Very well--that is all," she said, after she had counted the words +twice. "Oh--you want to wait for the repeat." + +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 it down upon its form. + +"There--if 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 leering grin at Miss Georgie. + +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 her pompadour, and +finally laughed at her own uneasiness. + +"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 +toad--or snake, or--ugh! And what does he mean--sending twenty-word +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 +wish--only it's unprofessional to talk about it--but, 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 messages." + +"Maybe he's a detective," Evadna hazarded. + +"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. And--I 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 +anything more brutal than lick a postage stamp?" + +"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 say--but +I'd hate to swear to that. _I_ never could catch it when it looked +swept--and 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 commenced coming to him." + +"Why don't you turn detective yourself and find out?" Plainly, Evadna +was secretly laughing at her perturbed interest in the matter. + +"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. And--couldn'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 thing--where 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 +fishing--but 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, there'd be two of us--" + +"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 with--that'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 suppose--sixteen is about due. Excuse me, chicken." + +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 +fish-basket slung from one shoulder, a trout rod carefully wrapped in +its case in his hand, a box which looked suspiciously like a case of +some bottled joy at his feet, and a loose-lipped smile upon his face. + +"Howdy, Miss Georgie?" he called unctuously through the open door. + +Miss Georgie barely glanced at him from under her lashes, and her +shoulders indulged themselves in an almost imperceptible twitch. + +"How do you do, Mr. Baumberger?" she responded coolly, and very, very +gently pushed the door shut just as he had made up his mind to enter. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. THE AMIABLE ANGLER + +Baumberger--Johannes was the name he answered to when any of his family +called, though to the rest of the world he was simply Baumberger--was +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 tussle with that four-pounder he had lost last time. + +"And I don't go back till I get him--not if I stay here a week," he +declared, with jocular savagery. "Took half my leader and my pet fly--I +got him with a peacock-bodied gray hackle that I revised to suit my own +notions--and, by the great immortal Jehosaphat, he looked like a whale +when he jumped up clear of the riffle, turned over, and--" His flabby, +white hand made a soaring movement to indicate the manner in which the +four-pounder had vanished. + +"Better take a day off and go with me, Pete," he suggested, getting an +unwieldy-looking pipe from the pocket of his canvas fishing-coat, and +opening his eyes at a trout-fly 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 fatuous to one who has no sporting blood in his veins. + +"Last time I used that fly was when I was down here three weeks ago--the +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 +book--I must be getting absent-minded. 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 up--a lawyer +can't afford to grow absent-minded. He's liable to wake up some day and +find himself without his practice." + +He got his fly-book 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 +frail-looking five inches of gut leader, and then returned the book +fondly to the basket. + +"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 of--ah--snake medicine," +he hinted, chuckling so that the whole, deep chest of him vibrated. "No? +Well, you can let me have a horse, I suppose--that cow-backed sorrel +will do--he's gentle, I know. I think I'll go out and beg an invitation +from that Hart boy--never can remember those kids by name--Gene, is it, +or Jack?" + +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 after-thought, if Jack's +mother had company, or anything that would make his presence a burden. + +"Nobody's there--and, if there was, it wouldn't matter," Jack assured +him carelessly. "Go on down, if you want to. It'll be all right with +mother." + +"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 so--but it's a fact, just the same. She sure is a genius with the +frying-pan, my boy." + +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 +stable. + +"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, Pete--and 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 days--maybe 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 grind--but 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 know--it's the +one I was talking to yuh about last time I was down. + +"W-ell--I reckon my means of conveyance is ready for me--so long, Peter, +till Sunday. See you at supper, boys." + +He hooked a thumb under the shoulder-strap 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 of satisfaction with life which +sets a cat purring. + +Some time later, he appeared, in the same jovial mood, at the Hart +ranch, and found there the welcome which he had counted upon--the +welcome which all men received there upon demand. + +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 fishing-basket 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 loose-lipped +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 well-being. + + + +CHAPTER IX. PEPPAJEE JIM "HEAP SABES" + +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 too-familiar dog from him with a shove of moccasined foot, and stalked +away through the sagebrush. + +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 man-made 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 surface, once he sets himself heart and muscle to the task. + +With the deliberation of his race, Peppajee stood long minutes +motionless, gazing into the valley before he 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 dust-ridden 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 sage-roots, or patches of deep dust and sand beside the +wagon-road, his sharp, high-featured face set in the stony calm which +may hide a tumult of elemental passions beneath and give no sign. + +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 so was lost for that day. + +"Hello, Peppajee," called Wally over his cigarette. "Just in time for +supper." + +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 but his eyes. + +"Peppajee, this my friend, Mr. Baumberger. You heap sabe +Baumberger--come 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, had failed to find favor in +his eyes. + +"Huh!" grunted Peppajee non-commitally, and made no motion to +shake hands, thereby confirming Peaceful's suspicion. "Me heap sabe +Man-that-catchum-fish." 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 Indian's attitude, which he attributed +to racial stupidity. + +Peppajee did not even indicate that he heard or, hearing, understood. + +"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 watchdogs--they'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 have some influence with the agent." + +"I guess you needn't go to any trouble about it," Peaceful returned +dryly. "I've had worse neighbors." + +"Oh--if 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 time-worn joke had met with disfavor, even by the boys, +who could--and usually did--laugh 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 snow-white beard with his free hand, pushed the +pipe-stem between his teeth, and went on smoking. + +"I never liked the breed, any way you look at 'em," Baumberger stated +calmly. + +"Say, you'll queer yourself good and plenty, if you keep on," Wally +interrupted bluntly. "Peppajee's ears aren't plugged with cotton--are +they, Jim?" + +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 he were glad to escape from the steady, uncompromising stare of +the Indian. + +"Better come and eat, Peppajee," Peaceful lingered upon the porch to +urge hospitably. "You no get mad. You come eat supper." + +"No!" Peppajee jerked the word out with unmistakable finality. "No eat. +Bimeby mebbyso makum big talk yo'." + +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 as pleased him best. + +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 two. + +"I talk yo'. Mebbyso no talk Man-with-big-belly." He waited impassively. + +"All right, Jim." Peaceful turned apologetically toward his guest. +"Something he wants to tell me, Baumberger; kinda private, I guess. I'll +be back in a minute, anyway." + +"Now don't mind me at all," Baumberger protested generously. "Go ahead +just as if I wasn't here--that'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 pipe. + +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 boys--all time my frien'. Me speakum all +time no lie, mebbyso." + +"No," Peaceful assented unhesitatingly, "you no tell lies, Peppajee. We +good friends, many years." + +"Huh! Man-that-catchum-fish, him no yo' frien'. Shont-isham. All time +him speakum lies--tellum 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 time him likum steal yo' +ranch." + +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 +sell--me 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 Man-that-coughs, tellum him ketchum ranch. +Much white man come, so--" He lifted one hand with thumb and fingers +outspread, made a downward gesture, and then raised three fingers. +"Catchum ranch." + +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 signs +his exact meaning. + +Peppajee scowled, and shook his head stubbornly. "Me heap sabe. All +same, ketchum yo' ranch. Man-that-catchum-fish 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 odor of +smoke from Baumberger's pipe. + +"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 warning, and went back to talk politics with Baumberger. + + + +CHAPTER X. MIDNIGHT PROWLERS + +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 half-dugout, +half-board 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 fellow-men 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 spring-fed 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 stable-door, shook his head in mute +displeasure, and went quietly on. As he neared the silent house, the +faint creak of saddle-leather and the rattle of spur-chains 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 pond--the 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 laid--and 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 his eyes were not +used to playing him tricks. + +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 guarded challenge: + +"Who's that?" + +A figure detached itself without sound from the blot of darkness there, +and stood almost at his stirrup. + +"Yo' Good Injun--me likum for talk yo'." + +Good Indian was conscious of a distinct disappointment, though he kept +it from his voice when he answered: + +"Oh, it's you, Peppajee. What you do here? Why you no sleepum yo' +wikiup?" + +Peppajee held up a slim, brown hand for silence, and afterward rested it +upon the saddle-fork. + +"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 +he led him back into the shadow of the rock. + +"Well, what's the row?" Good Indian asked impatiently, and curiously as +well. + +Peppajee spoke more hastily than was usual. "Me watchum +Man-that-catchum-fish. Him hee-eeap kay bueno. Me no sabe why him walk, +walk in night--me heap watchum." + +"You mean Baumberger? He's all right. He comes down here to catchum many +fish--trout, up in the Malad, you sabe. Heap friend Peaceful. You no +likum?" + +"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 +stable--Pete stable--me walkum close--no makum noise. Me hear talk. +Stoppum--no can see--me 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--" + +"Baumberger?" suggested Grant. + +"Him. All same Baumberga, him talk Man-that-coughs. 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 thinkum +I lie--shont-isham!" + +"What more you do?" Good Indian, at least, did not laugh. + +"Me go camp. Me thinkum, thinkum all time. Dat man have bad heart. Kay +bueno. No can sleep--thinkum mebbyso do bad for Peaceful. Come ranch, +stop all time dark, all time heap watchum. Bimeby, mebbyso man--all same +yo' callum Baumberga--him 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 noise--kay 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 statue-like 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 ranch--the 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 the clanking +Mexican spurs from his heels, and touched Peppajee on the shoulder. + +"All right," he murmured close to his ear, "we go see." + +Without a word, Peppajee turned, and stole away toward the meadows, +keeping always in the shadow of rock or bush, silent-footed as a +prowling bobcat. Close behind him, not quite so silent because of his +riding-boots, 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 Evadna--and 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 blackness of the grove. + +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 the moon-bathed world around him. + +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. + +Peppajee grunted. "What for yo' no stoppum all same Peaceful?" + +Good Indian scorned a subterfuge, and spoke truly. "That girl, Evadna, +no likum me. All time mad me. So I no stoppum ranch, no more." + +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 rim-rock which guarded the bluff. +"All same, yo' no go stoppum Hicks," he commanded. "Yo' stoppum dis +ranch all time. Yo' all time watchum man--yo' 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 +Man-that-coughs. Me no sabe catchum ranch--all same, me watchum. Them +mans heap kay bueno. Yo' bet yo' life!" + +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 +positively that there went Peppajee. + +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 fishing-tackle +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 the grove. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XI. "YOU CAN'T PLAY WITH ME" + +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 appeared--which was not at all. + +What did interest him that morning was the changeful mood of Evadna; +though he kept his interest so well hidden that no one suspected it--not +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 rigorous discipline of averted +face and frigid tones. + +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 pounce--he 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 standing beside the road, waving a +flask. + +"It's the cream for your coffee," she cried, going to meet Evadna. "You +can slip it into your jacket-pocket, can't you, honey? Huckleberry is so +steady--and 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 whip--a blow which would +not have perturbed a mosquito--when 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 attention--and that in +spite of the distinct shadow of her head and shoulders which lay at his +feet. + +"Oh--Grant," she began perfunctorily, "I'm sorry to trouble you--but do +you happen to have an empty pocket?" + +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 pocket before he so much as glanced toward her. + +"I may have. Why?" He picked up the bridle-reins, caught the +saddle-horn, and thrust his toe into the stirrup. From under his +hat-brim he saw that she was pinching her under lip between her teeth, +and the sight raised his spirits considerably. + +"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. + +"I'll carry it--I'm more used to packing bottles," he announced gravely. + +"Oh, but if you must carry it in your hand, I wouldn't dream of--" She +was holding fast the bottle, and trying to wear her Christmas-angel +look. + +Good Indian laid hold of the flask, and they stood there stubbornly +eying each other. + +"I thought you wanted me to carry it," he said at last, pulling harder. + +"I merely asked if you had an empty pocket." Evadna clung the tighter. + +"Now, what's the use--" + +"Just what I was thinking!" Evadna was so impolite as to interrupt him. + +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 in her eyes a sign of weakening, he followed up the advantage he had +gained. + +"Let go--because 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 set--which was not rapid, by any means. He watched her with +quick, sidelong glances, and wondered whether he would dare say what he +wanted to say--or at least a part of it. + +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 washed-out 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 on the same ranch, we might as well be friends. What do +you say?" + +For a time he thought she was not going to say anything. She was staring +at the dust-cloud 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 words. + +"You told me you didn't like me," she reminded, looking at him briefly, +and afterward fumbling her reins. "You can't expect a girl--" + +"I suppose you don't remember coming up to me that first night, and +calling me names, and telling me how you hated me, and--and winding up +by pinching me?" he insinuated with hypocritical reproach, and felt of +his arm. "If you could see the mark--" he hinted shamelessly. + +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 minute," she added, with virtuous solemnity. + +"But you're not killed, and I'm not in jail." + +"And I haven't told a living soul about it--not even Aunt Phoebe," +Evadna remarked, still painfully virtuous. "If I had--" + +"She'd have wondered, maybe, what you were doing away down there in +the middle of the night," Good Indian finished. "I didn't tell a soul, +either, for that matter." + +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 an honest impulse of +friendliness. + +"Well, I'm sure I'm willing to bury the tomahawk--er--that is, I mean--" +She blushed hotly at the slip, and stammered incoherently. + +"Never mind." His eyes laughed at her confusion. "I'm not as bad as +all that; it doesn't hurt my feelings to have tomahawks mentioned in my +presence." + +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 +much-desired 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 that he might face her squarely. + +"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 he repeated the question. + +"Do you mean that? We've been digging into each other pretty +industriously, and saying how we hate each other--but are you willing +to drop it and be friends? It's for you to say--and 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 it?" she evaded. + +"Am I to take it for granted you meant what you said?" He stuck +stubbornly to the main issue. "Girls seem to have a way of saying +things, whether they mean anything or not. Did you?" + +"Did I what?" She was wide-eyed innocence again. + +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 +person who goaded him further. He glanced at the girl sharply. + +"This thing has got to be settled right now, without any more fooling +or beating about the bush," he said--and 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 settle--in that solemn +manner. I only know we're a mile behind the others, and Miss Georgie +will be wondering--" + +"You say I'm to settle it, the way I want it settled?" + +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 gazed +sternly into her frightened eyes. + +"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 or--hate 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 +right--you're perfectly horrid! You take everything for granted--" + +Good Indian laughed at her, a laugh of pure, elemental joy in life and +in love. + +"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 am--the 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. You--oh, I never saw such a--a +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 the outrage. + +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 to play a five-dollar +gold piece he had in his hand and quit. + +"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 me--they'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 conchos--you 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 pocket for a match. + +"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 straight--I did once, +and I never got over it, I guess. I was going to pinch down to ten--but +I didn't; I let her ride. And SHOT CRAPS!" + +He drew the match along the stamped saddle-skirt behind the cantle, +because that gave him a chance to steal a look behind him without being +caught in the act. Good, wide hat-brims 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 it--yet. 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. + +"What did you do then?" asked Gene. + +"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 craps--sixes, that +time--sent 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 craps--say, 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 have its place in the problem of +his life. + + + +CHAPTER XII. "THEM DAMN SNAKE" + +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 fly-book, 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 fishing-coat, +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 attention, and stayed him for a few minutes to watch. + +Loosely disreputable looked Lawyer Baumberger, from the snagged hole +in his hat-crown where a wisp of graying hair fluttered through, to the +toes of his ungainly, rubber-clad 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 pool. + +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 half-snarl, +half-involuntary contraction of muscles sympathetically tense. + +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 life--had Good Indian--and had found joy in +the sport. And here was he inwardly condemning a sportsman who stood +self-revealed, 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 +felt it nevertheless. + +"Brute!" he muttered aloud, his face eloquent of cold disgust. + +At that moment Baumberger drew the tired fish gently into the shallows, +swung him deftly upon the rocks, and laid hold of him greedily. + +"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 larger one of the little scales he carried inside his +basket. + +"Pound and four ounces," he announced, and slid the fish into his +basket. He was the ordinary, good-natured, gross Baumberger now. He +reached for his pipe, placed it in his mouth, and held out a hand to +Good Indian for a match. + +"Say, young fella, have you got any stand-in with your noble red +brothers?" he asked, after he had sucked life into the charred tobacco. + +"Cousins twice or three times removed, you mean," said Good Indian +coldly, too proud and too lately repelled to meet the man on friendly +ground. "Why do you ask?" + +Baumberger eyed him speculatively while he smoked, and chuckled to +himself. + +"One of 'em--never mind placing him on his own p'ticular limb of the +family tree--has 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 that--thought maybe he was hunting +or going fishing--but he's been sneakin' around behind me ever since. I +don't reckon he's after my scalp--not enough hair to pay--but I'd like +to know what the dickens he does mean." + +"Nothing probably," Good Indian told him shortly, his eyes nevertheless +searching the rocks for a sight of the watcher. + +"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 +sun-ridden 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 +head--looked to me like the surly buck that blew in to the ranch the +night I came; Jim something-or-other. By the great immortal Jehosaphat!" +he swore humorously, "I'd like to tie him up in his dirty blanket and +heave him into the river--only it would kill all the fish in the Malad." + +Good Indian laughed. + +"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 one there." + +"I'll go up and take a look," Good Indian offered carelessly. + +"Well, I wish you would. I can't keep my mind on m' fishing--just +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 remembered to ask as he prepared for another cast into the +pool. + +"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 on down." + +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 think. + +He climbed negligently, scattering loose rocks down the hill behind +him. He had no expectation of coming upon Peppajee--unless Peppajee +deliberately put himself in his way--and so there was no need of +caution. He stopped once, and stood long minutes with his head turned to +catch the faint sound of high-keyed laughter and talk which drifted +up to him. If he went higher, he thought, he might get a glimpse of +them--of her, to tell his thought honestly. Whereupon he forgot all +about finding and expostulating with Peppajee, and thought only a point +of the ridge which would give him a clear view downstream. + +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, looking for a betraying bit of color or dirty gray hat-crown. + +"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 depended upon reaching as soon +as possible the broader sweep of the Snake. + +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 hat-brim down over his right eye and +ear to shield them from the burn of the sun, and went picking his way +idly over to the place. + +"HUL-lo!" he greeted, in the manner of one who refuses to acknowledge +the seriousness of a situation which confronts him suddenly. "What's the +excitement?" + +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 hunting-knife +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 it--for 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 ankle-bone, and from +there drip-dropped 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. + +"Want me to suck it?" ventured Good Indian unenthusiastically, eying the +wound. + +"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 wound--a 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 hiding-place +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 considers that he has been hardly used. + +"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 heap walk," he stated +simply. + +"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 fish--no more." He waved his hand toward the Malad. +"Baumberger bueno--catchum fish--no more." + +Peppajee got slowly and painfully upon his feet--rather, upon one foot. +When Good Indian held out a steadying arm, he accepted it, and leaned +rather heavily. + +"Yo' eyes sick," said Peppajee, and grinned sardonically. "Yo' eyes +see all time Squaw-with-sun-hair. Fillum yo' eyes, yo' see notting. Yo' +catchum squaw, bimeby mebbyso see plenty mo'. Me no catchum sick eye. +Mebbyso me see heap plenty." + +"What you see, you all time watchum Baumberger?" + +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 swayed languidly the smaller branches of the nearby trees. + +Only Donny was there, sitting disgruntled upon the most comfortable +rock he could find, sulking because the others had taken all the +fishing-tackle that was of any account, and had left him to make shift +with one bent, dulled hook, a lump of fat pork, and a dozen feet of +line. + +"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 snag lines and lose leaders +and hooks, and giggle alla squeal. Aw--DARN girls!" + +"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 snake-bite. +I'll be back before you get ready to go home." + +"I'm ready to go home right now," growled Donny, sinking his chin +between his two palms. "But I guess the walkin' ain't all taken up." + +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 well-defined 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 Huckleberry, and so got Peppajee mounted and headed toward +camp. + +"You tell Jack I borrowed his saddle and Huckleberry," he called out to +the drooping little figure on the rock. "But I'll get back before they +want to go home." + +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 misunderstanding and fruitless speculation +upon the part of Evadna. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. CLOUD-SIGN VERSUS CUPID + +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 +sensation-seekers 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 placer-pits, 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, he spoke. + +"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 +snake-bitten foot. "Snake bite, make all time much hurt." His eyes +turned, and dwelt sharply upon the face of Good Indian. + +"Yo' all time thinkum Squaw-with-sun-hair. 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 same rattlesnake sleepum in sun. Kay +bueno." + +Good Indian jerked his mind back from delicious recollection of one +sweet, swift-passing minute, and half opened his lips for reply. But +he did not speak; he did not know what to say, and it is ill-spent +time--that 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 away to the west. + +"Las' night, sun go sleepum. Clouds come all same blanket, sun wrappum +in blanket. Cloud look heap mad--mebbyso make much storm. Bimeby much +mens come in cloud, stand so--and so--and 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 head +slowly, his leathery face set in deep, somber lines. + +"Much trouble come heap quick," he said gravely, hitching his blanket +into place upon his shoulder. "Me no sabe--all same, heap trouble come. +Much mens, mebbyso much fight, much shootum--mebbyso kill. Peaceful Hart +him all time laugh me. All same, me sabe smoke sign, sabe cloud sign, +sabe--Baumberga. Heap ka-a-ay bueno!" + +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 before he strolled on to the house and to the +armchair upon the porch. + +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 wind-riven cloud +meant to him spirit-sent prophecies not to be ignored. + +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 minutes, or +three--perhaps the time might be stretched to five. + +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 industry--one shining black head bent over a +half-finished, beaded moccasin, another stitching a crude gown of +bright-flowered 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' walk--no thinkum all time squaw. Mebbyso yo' think for man-snake. +Mebbyso yo' watchum," Peppajee said, as he swung slowly down from +Huckleberry's back. + +"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 fresh-cheeked and bright-eyed 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 thoughts and all his desire. + +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 green-and-white 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 said. + +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 looked full at her. + +Evadna stared stonily over him to where the water boiled fastest. He +might have been one of the rocks, for all the notice she took of him. + +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 over to her. + +"Aren't you feeling well?" he asked, with tender proprietorship in his +tone. + +"I'm feeling quite well, thank you," returned Evadna frigidly, +neglecting to look at him. + +"What is the matter, then? Aren't you having a good time?" + +"I'm enjoying myself very much--except 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 edge--this time some distance from +where Evadna sat--and began throwing pebbles at the black nose of a +wave-washed 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 full-blooded youths strive against one another for +supremacy. They came to the point of making bets, at first extravagant +and then growing more and more genuinely in earnest, for we're gamblers +all, at heart. + +Miss Georgie burned a frying-panful 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 been blind and deaf she would not +have appeared more oblivious. + +Good Indian grew anxious, and then angry. The savage stirred within +him, and counseled immediate and complete mastery of her--his woman. +But there was the white man of him who said the thought was brutal 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, jeering 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, and the savage in him laughed and lay down again, knowing himself +the master. + +What he did was to throw away the burnt fish, clean the frying-pan, 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 +it exactly as he would have spoken if Jack, for instance, had upset the +sugar. + +He held up the broken-handled 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 did not know that he saw them, +though another did. + +He was taken wholly by surprise when Miss Georgie, walking past him +afterward on her way to an enticing pool, nipped his arm for attention +and murmured: + +"You're doing fine--only don't overdo it. She's had just about all she +can stand right now. Give her a chance to forgive you--and let her think +she came out ahead! Good luck!" Whereupon she finished whatever she +pretended to have been doing to her fishing-tackle, 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 nothing more than idle amusement. + +"I'd like nothing better than to get that four-pounder on my line," she +added. "It would be the joke of the season--if a woman caught him." + +"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 more--and 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 rocky +place. + +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 Evadna--once more perched sulkily +upon the rock. + +"Head still bad, chicken?" she inquired cheerfully. "Better stay here in +the shade--I 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 the Hart boys. + +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 back to the farther shelter of +the ledge. + +"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 +want more words? Tell me what it is that bothers 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 +you hadn't cared. You--you let me kiss you. And--" + +"And after that you--you rode off and left me--and you went away by +yourself, just as if--just 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 clear--which could scarcely +be expected, since he did not quite understand it himself--he at least +succeeded in lifting from her the weight of doubt and of depression. + +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 +quick, anyhow." + +"And thorough," grinned Jack. "I was thinking some of falling in love +with you myself, Vad. Soon as some of the shine wore off, and you got so +you acted like a real person." + +"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 tones. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. THE CLAIM-JUMPERS + +"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 night--didn'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 blood-shot eyes, however, +rather gave the lie to his statement. "I'm going to make one more try, +'long about noon, for that big one--girls 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 slightly over the table while he fed. + +"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 dark--and I thought maybe it was Gene's ghost. That was before the +moon came up. Got any more biscuits, mum?" + +"My trap wasn't sprung behind the chicken-house," said Donny. "I looked, +first thing." + +"Dogs," drawled Baumberger, his enunciation muffled by the food in his +mouth, "always bark. And cats fight on shed-roofs. Next door to where I +board there's a dog that goes on shift as regular as a policeman. Every +night at--" + +"Oh, Aunt Phoebe!" Evadna, crisp and cool in a summery dress of some +light-colored stuff, and looking more than ever like a Christmas angel +set a-flutter 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 and pointed the gun straight at me!" + +"Why, honey, that can't be--you 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 found sanctuary there. + +"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 speaking. + +"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 go--never +saw the hobo yet that wouldn't run from a dog." He smiled leeringly up +at her, and reached for a second helping of honey. + +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 sympathy for +Evadna's fear, and he frowned in a baffled way. + +"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 thick row +of trees--or a garden, or anything else." + +"He's got a row of stakes running clear across the patch," Evadna +recalled suddenly. "Just like they do for a new street, or a railroad, +or something. And--" + +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 then Baumberger glanced casually +at Peaceful. + +"Sounds queer--must 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 +scared--Sick the dogs on him," he advised the family collectively, +his manner changing to a blustering anxiety that her fright should be +avenged. + +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 coffee-pot and frying-pan and blankets. And there a line of +stakes across the strawberry patch." + +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 gallantly upon +feminine timidity and the natural, protective instincts of men. + +Peaceful Hart may have heard half of what he said--but 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. + +The runner was Donny, and every freckle stood out distinctly upon his +face. + +"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' to wash gold. Good Injun--" + +"Oh!" screamed Evadna suddenly. "Don't let him--don'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 Injun knows one of 'em." + +Peaceful Hart stood indecisively, and stared, one and gripping the back +of his chair. His lips were working so that his beard bristled about his +mouth. + +"They can't do nothing--the ranch belongs to me," he said, his eyes +turning rather helplessly to Baumberger. "I've got my patent." + +"Jumping our ranch!--for placer claims!" Phoebe stood up, leaning hard +upon the table with both hands. "And we've lived here ever since Clark +was a baby!" + +"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 serious--and if it is, why--I'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 jumping--our--ranch?" Phoebe's soft eyes +gleamed at him. She was pale, so that her face had a peculiar, ivory +tint. + +"Now, now!" Baumberger put out a puffy hand admonishingly. "Let's keep +cool--that'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 +his thumb and finger. + +"You're a lawyer, Mr. Baumberger," Peaceful turned to him, still +helpless in his manner. "What's the best thing to be done?" + +"Don't--get--excited." 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, and--order 'em +off. Calmly, calmly! No violence--no threats--just 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, after--say twenty-four hours' notice--why, we'll +proceed to serve an injunction." He drew a match along the back of his +chair, and lighted his pipe. + +"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 hot-headed, 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 complicate the +case." + +"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 ranch--and you can get them anywhere in Idaho, almost. And to come +right into our garden, in the right--and stake a placer claim!" Her +anger seemed beyond further utterance. "The idea!" she finished weakly. + +"Well--but 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 +evil thing, portending much trouble and black treachery. + +"That's where people always blunder in a thing like this. A little +cool-headedness goes farther than hard words or lead. And," he added +cheeringly, "it may be a false alarm, remember. We won't borrow trouble. +We'll just make sure of our ground, first thing we do." + +"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 lightning-scarred +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 claim-jumper 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 jerkily. + +"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 arm, so that the butt of it +caressed his right shoulder-joint. + +"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. + +"You go to the devil," he advised chillingly. + +"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. They don't want--" + +Jack grinned, and hitched his gun into plainer view. "When we start in, +it won't be STICKS we're sending to His Nibs," he observed placidly. +"We're just waiting for him to ante." + +"This," said Baumberger, a peculiar gleam coming into his leering, +puffy-lidded eyes, and a certain hardness creeping into his voice, "this +is a matter for your father and me to settle. It's just-a-bide-beyond +you youngsters. This is a civil case. Don't foolishly make it come under +the criminal code. But there!" His voice purred at them again. "You +won't. You're all too clear-headed and sensible." + +"Oh, sure!" Wally gave his characteristic little snort. "We're only just +standing around to see how fast the cabbages grow!" + +Baumberger advanced boldly across the dead line. + +"Stanley, put down that gun, and explain your presence here and your +object," he rumbled. "Let's get at this thing right end to. First, what +are you doing here?" + +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 half-closed 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 Evadna--for 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 more than his eyes. + +"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 corner--ap-prox'm'tley--close 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 top--and +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 trouble--but 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 chest--a broad, +muscular chest it was--and let his eyes wander deliberately over his +audience. + +"That there's where _I_ stand," he stated, with arrogant self-assurance. +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. + +"That's what I aim to do," Stanley told him imperturbably. + +"_I_ proved, over fifteen years ago, that there WASN'T," Peaceful +drawled laconically, and sucked so hard upon his pipe that his cheeks +held deep hollows. + +Stanley grinned at him. "Sorry I can't let it go at that," he said +ironically. "I reckon I'll have to do some washin' myself, though, +before I feel satisfied there ain't." + +"Then you haven't panned out anything yet?" Phoebe caught him up. + +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 injunction--" + +"You can serve and be darned." Stanley's grin returned, wider than +before. + +"As Mr. Hart's legal adviser," Baumberger began, in the tone he employed +in the courtroom--a 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 twenty-four 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 HEL-ena." Stanley evidently felt +impelled to adapt his vocabulary to feminine ears, for he glanced at +them deprecatingly and as if he wished them elsewhere. + +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 half-shut 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 quietly beside Evadna, his attitude almost that of +boredom. + +"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 added half +humorously, "as a test case. If he goes, they'll all go." + +"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 hunk uh pork is kicking up a lot uh +dust, but he ain't GETTING anywhere!" + +"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, Grant--but +there's something fishy about it." + +"Ex-actly." Good Indian took one long step over the ditch, and went on +steadily. + +Wally, coming again alongside, turned his head, and regarded him +attentively. + +"Injun's on top," he diagnosed sententiously after a minute. "Looks +like he's putting on a good, thick layer uh war-paint, too." He waited +expectantly. "You might hand me the brush when you're through," he +hinted grimly. "I might like to get out after some scalps myself." + +"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 says--staked 'em out in the night and stuck up +their notices--and 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 +contemptuously. + +"I wish dad wasn't so--" began Wally moodily, and let it go at that. + +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've got to do it." + +"We can run 'em off--maybe," suggested Jack, his fighting instincts +steadied by the vivid memory of four rifles held by four men, who looked +thoroughly capable of using them. + +"This isn't a case of apple-stealing," Good Indian quelled sharply, and +got his rope from his saddle with the manner of a man who has definitely +made up his mind. + +"What CAN we do, then?" Wally demanded impatiently. + +"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 to-day than if you killed off the +whole bunch." + +He came back in a few minutes with his horse, and found the two still +moodily discussing the thing. He glanced at them casually, and went +about the business of saddling. + +"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. + + + +CHAPTER XV. SQUAW-TALK-FAR-OFF HEAP SMART + +Good Indian spoke briefly with the good-looking 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 +smilingly pointed out to him. + +"Howdy, Peppajee? How you foot?" he asked, when his unaccustomed eyes +discerned the old fellow lying back against the farther wall. + +"Huh! Him heap sick all time." Having his injury thus brought afresh +to his notice, Peppajee reached down with his hands, and moved the foot +carefully to a new position. + +"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, blankets--stop +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 men--in +court. You sabe. Ask Great Father to tell those men they go away, no +wash gold on ranch." He waited. + +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 not +speak quickly. + +"Las' night--mebbyso 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 of--a 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. Mebbyso +yo' thinkum fight, no sabe how yo' fight." + +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 Indian--he was also a +man. + +"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' no +sleepum mo'. All time yo' watchum." + +"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 ranch. You hear talk, mebbyso you tell me now." + +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 Squaw-talk-far-off," he commanded. "All time makum +talk--talk--" 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 Man-that-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 squaw. All +time glad for talkum yo'. Yo' go." + +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 the affair. + +"Much talkum--no can hear. All time them damn' Baumberga shut door--no +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 foot--no 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 Squaw-talk-far-off. 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 her--or 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 shy-eyed 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 man-mind +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 +own. As for Miss Georgie Howard-- + +"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 horse, was particularly +foolish sometimes. + +With that in his mind, he mounted--and turned Keno's head toward +Hartley. The distance was not great--little more than half a mile--but +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 +were not quite certain of his own mind, or of his welcome. + +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 +unapproachableness. + +"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 help. + +"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 red-and-white candy for Peppajee Jim next time I see +him." Miss Georgie laughed--but 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 yesterday that you had found one!" + +"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. + +So Good Indian told her. + +"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 done--unless you had kicked old Baumberger into the Snake. He's the +god in this machine. I'd swear to that." + +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 trust implicitly. + +"You're right as far as I'm concerned," he owned, with his queer, +inscrutable smile. "I think you're also right about him. What makes you +think so, anyway?" + +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 he--died, I didn't know enough to go +on and be a lawyer myself, so I took to this." She waved her hand +impatiently toward the telegraph instrument. + +"So it's like this: Eight men can take placer claims--can hold them, you +know--for 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 choose--or at +least get together--those 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 ground, aren't they?" + +"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 +might give me something definite to go on. He couldn't, though." + +"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 person--I don't believe Baumberger can do +that all himself legally. I've got some of daddy's law-books 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. "Think--think HARD, what's best to do!" + +"The only thing I can think of," he scowled, "is to kill that--" + +"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 +rough-on-rats in his dinner, but I intend to refrain from doing as I'd +like, and stick to what's best." + +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 +been--they'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 course. All this country +practically can show colors, but pay dirt? No!" + +"Look out," she advised him slowly, "that pay dirt doesn't grow over +night! Sabe?" + +Good Indian's eyes spoke admiration of her shrewdness. + +"I must be getting stupid, not to have thought of that," he said. + +"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 going to use the laws himself, and it's with +the law we've got to fight him." + +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 legible. + +"Betraying professional secrets, but I don't care," she exclaimed, +turning swiftly toward him. "Listen to this: + +"'How's fishing? Landed the big one yet? Ready for fry?"' + +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 yesterday--with fish for Pete, he SAID, and of course he +really did have some--and sent a wire to Shoshone. I found it on file +when I came back. That was perfectly innocent, too. It was: + +"'Expect to land big one to-night. Plenty of small fry. Smooth trail.' + +"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! You won't mind waiting here?" + +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 to-day, and he +was a bit startled at what he was finding her to be. + +"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 him--he was sitting in the beribboned rocker +dedicated to friendly callers, and had the rug badly rumpled with his +spurs, which he had forgotten to remove--and 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 of chocolates from going bottom +up on the floor. + +"Like candy? Help yourself, if you do," she said, and tucked a piece +into her mouth absent-mindedly before she laid the leather-bound book +open on the table. "Now, we'll see what information Mr. Copp can give +us. He's a high authority--General Land Office Commissioner, if you +please. He's a few years old--several years old, for that matter--but +I don't think he's out of date; I believe what he says still goes. +M-m-m!-'Liens on Mines'--'Clause Inserted in Patents'--'Affidavits Taken +Without Notice to Opposing'--oh, it must be here--it's GOT to be here!" + +She was running a somewhat sticky forefinger slowly down the index +pages. "It isn't alphabetically arranged, which I consider sloppy of Mr. +Copp. Ah-h! '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 +heads over it, though Miss Georgie read aloud. + +"Oh, it's a letter--but it's a decision, and as such has weight. U-m! + +"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 respectfully," + +"'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 patent--Baumberger 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 that--IS 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 heavy brackets, wetting the lead on her tongue for emphasis. + +"'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 together over the sentiment conveyed therein. + +"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: + +"'I have to state that if eight bona-fide locaters' + +("Whether they're that remains to be proven, Mr. Baumberger!") + +'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 faith--those 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 as they did so. + +"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 +land--and 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 error--oh, as +Jenny Wren says in--in--" + +"'Our Mutual Friend?'" Good Indian suggested unexpectedly. + +"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 it--so 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 laws--and 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 tap-tap of feet on the platform, and Evadna appeared in the +half-open doorway. + +"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 +riding-skirt, 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 he made himself sound apologetic. + +"Oh--about an hour ago, I think," Evadna drawled sweetly--the sweet +tones which always mean trouble, when employed by a woman. + +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 it--when you go." + +"I'm going now, if you're ready," he told her shortly, and reached for +his hat. + +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. + +"Oh--if you're really going," she drawled, and followed him outside. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. "DON'T GET EXCITED!" + +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 +rocking-chair, 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 +resents humiliation more keenly than a direct injury. + +As to Evadna, her atmosphere was that of conscious and magnanimous +superiority to any feeling so humanly petty as jealousy--which 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 lunch--dinner, +I mean--and she's so upset over those horrible men planted in the +orchard--did 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. +Good-by--come down whenever you can, won't you?" She smiled, and she +waved a hand, and she held up her riding-skirt daintily as she turned +away. "You didn't say goodby to Georgie," she reminded Grant, still +making use of the chirpy tone. "I hope I am not in any way responsible." + +"I don't see how you could be," said Good Indian calmly; and that, for +some reason, seemed to intensify the atmosphere with which Evadna chose +to surround herself. + +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 +package--a 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 Hartley and the sagebrush waste +surrounding it. + +"You seem to be in a good deal of a hurry," Good Indian observed. + +"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 sarcasm--which came rapidly out from behind the veil and grew +sharp and bitter--before 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 pretext whatsoever. + +Baumberger, in his shirt-sleeves and smoking his big pipe, lounged up +from the pasture gate where he had been indolently rubbing the nose of a +buckskin two-year-old 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 match for his answer. + +"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 bridle-reins, and started for the +stable. Baumberger happened to be in the way, and he backed again, more +hastily than before, to avoid being run over. + +"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 that I was so small I couldn't be seen +with the naked eye!" + +"You're so small in my estimation that a molecule would look like a +hay-stack alongside you!" Good Indian lifted the skirt of Evadna's +side-saddle, 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 none--in 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 +yellow-haired 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. + +"We-e-ell, 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 forenoon--maybe I've +kinda got the habit." + +"Only you're pouring it on a fire this time." + +"That dangerous, yuh mean?" + +"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 uncouth. + +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 purpose--because 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 himself. + +"What d'yuh mean by me pouring oil on fire!" Baumberger urged +banteringly. "Sounds like the hero talking to the villain in one of +these here save-him-he's-my-sweetheart plays." + +"You go to the devil," said Good Indian shortly. + +"Don't repeat yourself, m' son; it's a sign uh failing powers. You said +that to me this morning, remember? And--don't--get--excited!" His right +arm raised slightly when he said that, as if he expected a blow for his +answer. + +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 t'-day. I gotta WATCH him." + +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 with Evadna--if it was +only to continue their quarrel. + +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 affairs down in the orchard. + +Evadna, it is true, strolled rather self-consciously 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 much-abused +cushion under his head and his hat tilted over his face, so that he +could see Baumberger's face without the scrutiny attracting notice. + +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 odds--cases +for the most part similar to this claim-jumping business. + +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 leaf-shadows on the ground. + +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 arm, and gave it a little, reassuring squeeze. + +"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 consciously--"you didn't +think I was going to--to fall dead in love--" + +"Didn't I?" Phoebe laughed at him openly. "I'd have been more surprised +if you hadn't. Why, my grief! I know enough about human nature, I hope, +to expect--" + +"Churning?" The voice of Baumberger purred down to them. There he stood +bulkily at the top of the steps, good-naturedly regarding them. "Mr. +Hart and I are goin' to take a ride up to the station--gotta 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 +Indian, and passed him over as being of no consequence. + +"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 all--Oh, +all right." He had caught another shake of the head. + +"We may be gone till supper-time," 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 +boys--they'll do as you say." He leered at her ingratiatingly, shot a +keen, questioning look at Good Indian, and went his lumbering way. + +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 spring-house; 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; I want to talk with you--if I can +without having the whole of Idaho listening." + +"Oh, Grant--I 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 something--well, 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, too--seems like I'd go all to pieces if I can't do SOMETHING!" +She sighed, and tried to cover the sigh with a laugh--which was not, +however, a great success. "I wish I could be as cool-headed as Thomas," +she said, with a tinge of petulance. "It don't seem to worry him none!" + +"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 boot-toe +thoughtfully upon the bottom step, and glancing up now and then as a +precaution against being overheard. + +"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 there now? Does anybody know?" + +"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 so--CALM!" + +"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 Hart--will 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, and--a 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 H-A-ATE 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 and +inconsiderate and a brute. + +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 anyone else could do so. +And the things she had said! + +But here she was, nevertheless, laughing at him and blushing adorably +because he still held her fast, and making the blood of him race most +unreasonably. + +"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're--well, 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 unexpectedly--really, 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 up--and, 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 to--to Hartley." She +put her arms around her aunt's neck. "You aren't angry, are you, +Aunt Phoebe?" she coaxed. "You--you know you said you wanted me to be +par-TIC-ularly nice to Grant!" + +"Great grief, child! You needn't choke me to death. Of course I'm not +angry." But Phoebe's eyes did not brighten. + +"You look angry," Evadna pouted, and kissed her placatingly. + +"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 +thinking some of the home I'm likely to lose." + +Evadna drew back, and made a movement to go. + +"Oh, I'm sorry I interrupted you then, Aunt Phoebe. I suppose you and +Grant were busy discussing those men in the orchard--" + +"Don't be silly, child. You aren't interrupting anybody, and there's no +call for you to run off like that. We aren't talking secrets that I know +of." + +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 hand. + +"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 them left strictly alone. The boys had better keep away, though." + +"Are you going down in the orchard?" Evadna rounded her unbelievably +blue eyes at him. "Then I'm going along." + +"You'll do nothing of the kind, little Miss Muffit," he declared from +the top step. + +"Why not?" + +"I might want to do some swearing." He grinned down at her, and started +off. + +"Now, Grant, don't you do anything rash!" Phoebe called after him +sharply. + +"'Don't--get--excited!'" he retorted, mimicking Baumberger. + +"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 +orchard--and to the stable as well, though that view did not interest +her particularly at first. It was pure accident that made her witness +what took place at the gate. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. A LITTLE TARGET-PRACTICE + +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 held out a yellowish envelope. + +"Ketchum Squaw-talk-far-off," he explained gutturally. + +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 +telegraph form: + +"Come up as soon as you possibly can. I've something to tell you." + +That was what she had written. He read it twice before he looked up. + +"What time you ketchum this?" he asked, tapping the message with his +finger. + +"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. "Ketchum one dolla, mebbyso pikeway quick. No stoppum," +he said virtuously. + +"You see Peaceful in Hartley?" Good Indian asked the question from an +idle impulse; in reality, he was wondering what it was that Miss Georgie +had to tell him. + +"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 +day--perhaps 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 started toward the orchard, as he had +at first intended. + +"Mebbyso ketchum one dolla, yo'," hinted Charlie, the buck. + +But Good Indian went on without paying any attention to him. At the road +he met Jack and Wally, just returning from the orchard. + +"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 anything--not even when +you cuss 'em. Wally and I got black in the face trying to make them come +alive. Baumberger got back yet? Wally and I have got a scheme--" + +"He and your dad took the train for Shoshone. Say, does anyone know what +that bunch over in the meadow is up to?" Good Indian leaned his back +against a tree, and eyed the two morosely. + +"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 dirt--they 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 anything." + +"I'm going to break out pretty darned sudden," Jack observed calmly. +"I feel it coming on." He smiled, but there was a look of steel in his +eyes. + +Good Indian glanced at him sharply. + +"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 it--or if I did--" He lifted his +shoulders expressively. + +"So," he went on, after a minute of bitter thinking, "I want you to keep +out of this. You know how your mother would feel--You don't want to get +foolish. You can keep an eye on them--to-night 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, +why--I'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 respect--we +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 somewhere." + +"I notice you're packing yours, large as life," Jack pointed out. "Maybe +you're just wearing it for an ornament, though." + +"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 sort--and he knew that, when he did make a move, he at +least ought to know why he did it. + +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 again--and +while he was not a man who must have everything put into words, he had +found comfort and a certain clarity of thought in talking with her. + +"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 read +it. + +"I didn't think you'd want to ride through all that dust and heat again +to-day," he called back. "You're better off in the shade." + +"Going to call on 'Squaw-talk-far-off'--AGAIN?" She was still laughing, +with something else beneath the laugh. + +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 good-by--with a hasty kiss, +perhaps, from the saddle--as a lover should have done. + +He was not used to love-making. For him, it was settled that they loved +each other, and would marry some day--he 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 at +ease. + +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 hand to further shield her face. + +"Oh, the whole place is like a GRAVEYARD," she complained. "Nobody will +talk, or do anything but just wander around! I just can't STAND it!" +Which was not frank of her. + +"It's too hot to do much of anything," he said apologetically. "We might +take a ride, if you don't mind the heat." + +"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 claim-jumpers. You +seem to be in just about the proper frame uh mind to murder the whole +bunch. Fly at it!" + +"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 +to-day. 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 a brute. + +"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, +saw her there, huddled upon the bed. + +In the spring-house 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 Charlie--and the road to his favor must be paved with gifts. + +"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 coffee-pot. And Jack was the mild one of +the family. + +By the time he had succeeded in puncturing recklessly the frying-pan, +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 breath. + +"Got to do something to pass away the time," Jack grinned, bringing his +front sight once more to bear upon the coffee--pot, 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 +frying-pan. And I wouldn't--hurt--you--for--anything!" He had just +reloaded, so that his bullets saw him to the end of the sentence. + +Stanley watched his coffee-pot 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 this--and you'll be packing your +blanket on your back and looking for work before snow flies," was his +way of summing up. + +Still, he did not shoot. + +It was like throwing pebbles at the bowlder in the Malad, the day +before. + +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 claim-jumpers 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 out-of-the-way shelves, while +Phoebe expostulated in the immediate background. + +"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 milk-house, 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 that they were on +their way to a dance, so eager they were. + +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 +claim-jumping, and to punctuate their remarks with leaden periods +planted neatly and with precision in the immediate vicinity of one of +the four. + +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 taunting laughter, within range of +those rises, and they told Donny so. + +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 +Donny retreated in great indignation to the house. + +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 returned unexpectedly with the shotgun and an +enthusiasm for real bloodshed. + +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 dusk and Good Indian's opportune arrival prevented serious +trouble. + +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 about Saunders. + +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, according to Pete Hamilton, was sudden +death of a hemorrhage. + +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 +gone--because 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 him, anyway, Mr. Imsen." + +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 rim-rock above +the ranch, Good Indian had heard the shooting, though the trees hid from +his sight what was taking place, and he had given over his search for +Saunders and made haste to reach home. + +He might have gone straight down the bluff afoot, through a rift in +the rim-rock where it was possible to climb down into the fissure and +squeeze out through a narrow opening to the bowlder-piled 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 fellows--which 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 good-night 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 ill-used. He would have been distressed +if he could have known how she cried herself to sleep but, manlike, he +would also have been puzzled. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. A SHOT FROM THE RIM-ROCK + +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 chicken-house. 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 chicken-house, probed with his knife-blade 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 +gun-sound, and he also saw a puff of blue smoke rise up on the rim-rock +above him. He marked the place instinctively with his eyes, and went on +to the stable, stepping rather more quickly than was his habit. + +Inside, he sat down upon the oats-box, 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, +while they were climbing that bluff. + +Even if one succeeded in reaching the foot of the rim-rock, there was +a forty-foot 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 enough--if 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 mile-long 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 +non-combatant, guiltless of even firing a single shot since the trouble +began? + +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 whole-heartedly 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 +unpleasantness in their immediate past. + +"Where you ketchum?" he asked, coming a bit closer. + +"In the side of the chicken-house." Good Indian's tone was laconic. + +Wally reached out, and took the bullet from him that he might juggle it +curiously in his own fingers. "I don't think!" he scouted. + +"There's another one there to match this," Good Indian stated calmly, +"and if I should walk over there after it, I'll gamble there'd be more." + +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 of the other. + +"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 smile. + +"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 lasted!" + +"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 soon see if they're all on their +little patch of soil. Let's go take a look." + +They went out guardedly, their eyes upon the rim-rock. 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 +stable-door to the corral; and that, Jack said afterward, didn't take +all day. + +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 thing--yet." + +"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 rim-rock, 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. + +"Ah, go ON!" bawled Wally, his nerves all on edge. + +Jack dug his heel into the dust, blew the ashes from his cigarette, and +went on slowly to the gate, passed through, and stood well back, out of +sight under the trees, to watch. + +Wally snorted disdain of any proceeding so spectacular, but he was as he +was made, and he could not keep his dare-devil 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 knew they had been holding +their breath. + +"Well--here 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 realistic--for +a dream." His eyes searched involuntarily the rim-rock 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 to get back at us." + +"They've picked a dandy place," Good Indian observed. "I think maybe it +would be a good idea to hold that fort ourselves. We should have thought +of that; only I never thought--" + +Phoebe, heavy-eyed 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 again. "And I never done a thing to +him!" he declared virtuously. + +Phoebe set down the coffee-pot with an air of decision. + +"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 thinks--I don't know as ho's got anything to say about +it--it's what _I_ think. I know I'm only a woman, and you all consider +yourselves men, whether you are or not, and it's beneath your dignity, +maybe, to listen to your mother. + +"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 knot-hole 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 life-and-death 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 on--we'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 row of faces bent over their plates. + +"Oh, you can laugh--it'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 +to-day--laying behind a currant bush and shooting COFFEE-POTS!--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 times--I 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 gun-fight is kinda +sickening to a person that's seen the real thing. + +"'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's-play-Injun +business going on around this ranch. Why, I'd lead you down there by the +ear, every mother's son of you, and tell that man Stanley to SPANK you!" + +"Mum can whip her weight in wildcats any old time," Wally announced +after a heavy silence, and glared aggressively from one foolish-looking +face to another. + +As was frequently the case, the wave of Phoebe's wrath ebbed harmlessly +away in laughter as the humorous aspect of her tirade was brought to her +attention. + +"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 someone. When your father gets back, we'll see what's to be +done." + +"All right, Mum. We won't look toward the garden to-day," Wally promised +largely, and held out his cup to her to be refilled. "You can keep my +gun, if you want to make dead sure." + +"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 window--at 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 drawn-work, and was drawing +intricate little diagrams of certain patterns with her fork upon the +tablecloth. + +She looked up, and gave him a careless greeting, and went back to +discussing certain "wheels" in the corner of an imaginary lunch-cloth +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 drawings, and glanced at him +with her most exaggerated Christmas-angel look. + +"Don't interrupt, please," she said mincingly. "This is IMPORTANT. And," +she troubled to explain, "I'm really in a hurry, because I'm going to +help Aunt Phoebe make strawberry jam." + +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 breast-pocket. + +"WE can't raise anybody," Wally told him disgustedly, "and I've made +three round trips myself. I'm going to quit fooling around, and go to +work." + +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 visible means of discovering what +the unknown quantities could possibly be. + +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 rim-rock 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 the trail ahead of him, sending up a little spurt +of fine sand. + +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 rowels, and galloped around the Point. + +There, for the time being, he was safe. Unless the shooter upon the +rim-rock 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 of the time from the receding +wall of rock by huge bowlders and giant sage. + +Grant knew that he was safe from that quarter, and was wondering whether +he ought to ride up along the top of the bluff before going to Hartley, +as he had intended. + +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 softly: + +"Yo' no shoot--no shoot--me 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 four-inch 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 animal. Yet she +did not seem to be afraid of Good Indian. + +"I sorry I scare yo' horse," she said hesitatingly, speaking better +English than before. "I heap hurry to get here. I speak with yo'." + +"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 good-looking young +squaw he had seen at the Indian camp. "What's your name?" he asked, +remembering suddenly that he had never heard it. + +"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 shootum." + +"I know--I'm going to ride around that way and round him up." +Unconsciously his manner had the arrogance of strength and power to do +as he wished, which belongs to healthy young males. + +"N-o, no-o!" She drew a sharp breath "o' no good there! Dim shoot yo'. +Yo' no go! Ah-h--I 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 prime. + +"I want yo'--" she hesitated; "I want yo'--be heap careful. I want yo' +no ride close by hill. Ride far out!" She made a sweeping gesture toward +the valley. "All time I watch." + +He was staring at her in a puzzled way. She was handsome, after her +wild, half-civilized type, and her anxiety for his welfare touched him +and besought his interest. + +"Indians go far down--" She swept her arm down the narrowing river +valley. "Catch fish. Peppajee stay--no 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 gathered--though 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 aim, and shoot--and she had +known that he was shooting at Good Indian. + +When he asked her the second time what was her errand up there--whether +she was following the man, or had suspected that he would be there--she +shook her head vaguely and took refuge behind the stolidity of her race. + +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 hunting him out, in all that rough +jumble. + +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 had seen in her eyes. + +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 Hartley and his discussion of late +events with Miss Georgie. + +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 lily-pads within ten feet of them. It was not so long +ago, that evening. The time that had passed since might be reckoned +easily in hours, but to Good Indian it seemed a month, at the very +least. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. EVADNA GOES CALLING + +"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 +furtive-eyed individuals answering your description bought round-trip +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 stunt--and if the boys have begun to devil them any, the chances +are good that they'd take turns at it, anyway. They'd leave someone +always on the ground, that's a cinch. + +"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 bed--so Pete told +me this morning. And most of the Indians have pulled out--squaws, dogs, +papooses, and all--on 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 four-thirty--five. + +"And that's all I can tell you, Mr. Imsen," she finished crisply, and +took up a novel with a significance which not even the dullest man could +have ignored. + +Good Indian stared, flushed hotly, and made for the door. + +"Thank you for the information. I'm afraid this has been a lot of bother +for you," he said stiffly, gave her a ceremonious little bow, and went +his way stiff-necked and frowning. + +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 +wide-open door. + +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 pump-house 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 for the grimy +attendant. + +"What a fool--what 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 +magazines he could find, including--especially including--the alleged +"funny" ones. + +"You certainly--are--the prize--fool!" 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 garden-party chapter much as +she used to study her multiplication table when she was ten and hated +arithmetic. + +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 bareheaded in the sun to watch the +unloading. + +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, sage-covered 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 gayety--which her mouth somehow +failed to meet halfway in mirth--upon 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 tie-rope into what looked like a knot, +and step lightly upon the platform. She had kept her head down--had Miss +Georgie--until 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 the ranch is perfectly horrid," Evadna complained +pathetically, leaning back in the rocking-chair. "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 +and--oh, 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 house--and even then I couldn't help hearing most of it. + +"And to-day 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 +cross--CROSS, 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 +now--she just goes around with tears running down into the flannel +around her face till I could SHAKE her!" Evadna laughed--a self-pitying +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 brand-new sweetheart--" Miss Georgie reproved +quizzically, and reached for the inevitable candy box. + +"A lot of good that does, when he's never there!" flashed Evadna, +unintentionally revealing her real grievance. "He just eats and +goes--and 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 rather than say; to +Miss Georgie, of all people. + +"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 and picks me up again--" + +"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--" + +"Well, upon my word! Just as if I wanted--" + +"You really ought to help him by being kind and showing a little +sympathy, instead--" + +"It appears that the supply of sympathy--" + +"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 problem--and carries his +life in his hand--" + +"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 once, can he? Now, let's be +sensible, chicken. Grant--" + +"Oh--h!" There was a peculiar, sliding inflection upon that word, which +made Miss Georgie's hand shut into a fist. + +"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--" + +"I know all that." Evadna interrupted without apology. + +"Well, of course, if you DO--then 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 certain sense responsible--" + +"Yes, I know. He thinks he should have been watching somebody or +something instead of--of 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 there was no look of an angel in her face. + +Miss Georgie pressed her lips together tightly for a minute. When she +spoke, she was cheerfully impersonal as to tone and manner. + +"Chicken, you're a little goose. The man is simply crazy about you, and +harassed to death with this ranch business. Once that's settled--well, +you'll see what sort of a lover he can be!" + +"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 back in the chair and +beginning to rock again. + +"It's a nasty, underhand business from start to finish," said Miss +Georgie, ignoring the remark. "It has upset everybody--me 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 with old +Baumberger--and if ever there was a sly old mole of a man, he's one. + +"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, why--he'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 move--but 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 measuring-stick. She began to suspect that Evadna +was, after all, an extremely self-centered 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 a--a '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 white-ribboner, or +some other kind of a good-ribboner." Miss Georgie hated herself for +sliding into sheer flippancy, but she preferred that extreme to the +other, and she could not hold her ground just then at the "happy +medium." + +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 for--besides yourself?" flared Miss +Georgie, quite humanly exasperated. "There, chicken--the heat always +turns me snappy," she repented instantly. "Please pinch me." She held +out a beautiful, tapering forearm, and smiled. + +"I'm the snappy one," said Evadna, but she did not smile as she began +drawing on her gauntlets slowly and deliberately. + +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 +section-men 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 +worldly-wise to follow the trail past the store, where someone might +rush out and grab him before he could dodge away. He was a wise little +pinto--Huckleberry. + +"And now, I suppose I'll have the pleasure of walking home," grumbled +Evadna, standing upon the platform and gazing, with much self-pity, +after her runaway. + +"It's noon--stay 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 riding-skirt, +and went slowly down the steps. + +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 whatever. + +"Little idiot!" gritted Miss Georgie--and this time she was not speaking +of herself. + + + +CHAPTER XX. MISS GEORGIE ALSO MAKES A CALL + +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 station door with the furtive air +which Miss Georgie always inwardly resented. + +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 finger-nails--she 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 Saunders was almost +pitifully eager to be agreeable. + +"If it didn't sound cruel, this weather," said Miss Georgie lightly, +still looking at him--or, 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 day." + +"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 had ugly, discolored teeth into +the bargain. + +"I like to lay in the hay," he added lifelessly. "I guess I'll take my +bed up there; that lean-to 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 Shoshone, merely as a hint to Saunders to take himself away. + +"Ain't been anything for me?" he asked, still lingering. + +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 +barrow-load of boxes, she switched off the current abruptly, and went +over to the window to watch him. + +"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 everlasting undoing. It's +better than cipher--for I don't talk in my sleep." + +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 emphasis, and wired her chief for leave +of absence until seven. + +"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, nevertheless, +to self-reliant souls like the Hartley operator. + +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 +treasure-trove of flabby meat, and while he was dangling it over the +barrel until the superfluous brine dripped away, she asked him for a +horse. + +"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 and waited for his purchases. + +"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 getting along. Exciting times down +there, from all accounts." + +"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 suppose. I can saddle better +than Saunders." + +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 safe-keeping, +repinned her white sailor hat so that the hot wind which blew should not +take it off her head, and went cheerfully away to the stable. + +She did not saddle the horse at once. She first searched the pile of +sweet-smelling 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. She went outside, and +looked carefully at her immediate surroundings. + +"There's hardly a root of it anywhere around close," she said to +herself. "Nor around the store, either--nor any place where one would be +apt to go ordinarily." + +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 tossed +him the bag of candy, and stayed upon her horse. + +"Howdy, Peppajee? How your foot? Pretty well, mebbyso?" + +"Mebbyso bueno. Sun come two time, mebbyso walk all same no snake +biteum." Peppajee's eyes gloated over the gift as he laid it down beside +him. + +"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?" + +"No can walk far." Peppajee looked meaningly at his bandages. "No can +watchum." + +"Well, but you could tell somebody else to watch him. I think he do +bad thing to the Harts. You like Harts. You tell somebody to watch +Saunders." + +"Indians pikeway--ketchum fish. Come back, mebbyso tellum watchum." + +Miss Georgie drew in her breath for further argument, decided that it +was not worth while, and touched up her horse with the whip. "Good-by," +she called back, and saw that Peppajee was looking after her with his +eyes, while his face was turned impassively to the front. + +"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 +you--you 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 gold--or 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 done in a minute. + +And since there were four boys with decided ideas upon the +subject--ideas which harmonized only in the fundamental desire to harry +the interlopers, the thing was not to be done without much time being +wasted in fruitless argument. + +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 +ditch, mostly through rocky soil. + +Jack wanted to close all the headgates and just let the water go where +it wanted to--which 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 done--so long as it +was done their way. At least, that is what they said. + +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 biggest--that one under the milk-house." +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 sufficiently biting retort. + +So they went to work, each in his own way, agreeing mostly in untiring +industry. That is how Miss Georgie found them occupied--except 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 +milk-house, 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 milk-house, +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 discomfort--of her aunt presumably, since she +herself was high and dry. + +"And it won't do a BIT of good. They'll just knock that dam business all +to pieces to-night--" She was scolding Grant. + +"Swearing, chicken? Things must be in a great state!" + +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 you, Grant Imsen!" + +"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 deliberately cheerful under trying +conditions. + +"Don't quarrel, children," she advised lightly. "Howdy, Mrs. Hart? What +are they trying to do--drown 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 milk, and laughed at her own +predicament. + +"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 +new ditch. You know I explained just why--" + +"Oh, yes, I know you explained just WHY," Phoebe cut in disconsolately +and yet humorously, "but explanations don't seem to help my poor +milk-house any. And what about the garden, and the fruit, if you turn +the 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 +the lake you're going to have in the pasture?" + +She looked at Miss Georgie whimsically. "I'm an ungrateful, bad-tempered +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." + +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 buckets--which +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 them back on their own side of the line." + +He picked up a floating ribbon-end 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 they, Goldilocks?" + +"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 off--she +was wax--and you always remind me of the horrible expression it gave +to her face. I'd go every day and take her out of the bureau-drawer +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 space at least eight inches wide for Miss Georgie's +accommodation. + +"I can't sit anywhere," said Miss Georgie, looking at her watch. "By the +way, chicken, did you have to walk all the way home?" + +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 thought." + +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 finger-tips 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 side--by the +ear, if necessary--and 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 rocks--mostly with +packs on their shoulders that don't rightly belong to them." She sighed +impatiently. "It must be lovely to be absolutely selfish--when you're +pretty enough and young enough to make it stick!" Miss Georgie was, +without doubt, in a nasty temper that night. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. SOMEBODY SHOT SAUNDERS + +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. One--nothing 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. Two--this exactly like the first, except that those +inseparables, Hagar, Viney, and Lucy, whom Miss Georgie had inelegantly +dubbed "the Three Greases," appeared, silent, blanket-enshrouded, and +perspiring, at the office door in mid-afternoon. Half a box of soggy +chocolates which the heat had rendered a dismally sticky mass won from +them smiles and half-intelligible speech. Fishing was poor--no ketchum. +Three--not even the diversion of the squaws to make her forget +the dragging hours. Nothing--nothing--nothing, she told herself +apathetically when that third day had slipped upon the black cord of a +soft, warm night, star-sprinkled and unutterably lonely as it brooded +over the desert. + +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 her sleep had reached her door. + +Pete Hamilton's voice, trembling with excitement, called to her. + +"What is it? What has happened?" she cried from within, beset by a +hundred wild conjectures. + +"Saunders--somebody shot Saunders. Wire for a doctor, quick as yuh can. +He ain't dead yet--but 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 answer to the summons. Miss Georgie made haste to follow him. + +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 half-closed +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 section-hands, the Chinese +cook at the section-house, and the Swede foreman, and Pete seemed quite +at a loss what to do. + +"Take him in and put him to bed," Miss Georgie commanded, turning away. +"See if he's bleeding yet, and--well, I should put a cold compress on +the wound, I think. I'll send for a doctor--but 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 she waited for an answer. + +"G-r-a-n-" her fingers had spelled when she became conscious of the +fact, flushed hotly, and folded her hands tightly together in her lap. + +"The doctor will come--Hawkinson, 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. Especially did she search the loose, sandy soil in its +vicinity for tracks. + +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 follow--or 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 smooth-packed hollow in +the sand where he must have lain. + +"He's got nerve--I'll say that much for him," she observed aloud, and +went on. + +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. + +"The--deuce!" 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 woman whom one expects to +shed tears for slight cause. + +"If you did it--and you must have--I 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 disappointment also. + +"Did what--to whom--to 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, Squaw-talk-far-off?" He ducked and peered into her face again, and +again his face sobered. "What's the matter?" he asked, in an entirely +different tone--which Miss Georgie, in spite of her mood, found less +satisfying than his banter. + +"Saunders--OUCH; I'd as soon be scalped and done with, as to have you +pull out a hair at a time--Saunders crawled home with a bullet in his +ribs. And I thought--" + +"Saunders!" Good Indian stared down at her, his hands dropped upon her +head. + +Miss Georgie reached up, caught him by the wrists, and held him so while +she tilted her head that she might look up at him. + +"Grant!" she cried softly. "He deserved it. You couldn't help it--he +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 you--or that +anyone would if they knew the truth. I came out to see--I just HAD to +make sure--but you must get away from here. You shouldn't have stayed +so long--" Miss Georgie gave a most unexpected sob, and stopped that she +might grit her teeth in anger over it. + +"You think I shot him." As Good Indian said it, the sentence was merely +a statement, rather than an accusation or a reproach. + +"I don't blame you. I suspected he was the man up here with the rifle. +That day--that first day, when you told me about someone shooting at +you--he came over to the station. And I saw two or three scraps of sage +sticking under his shirt-collar, 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--" + +"You didn't tell me." And this time he spoke reproachfully. + +"It was after you had left that I saw it. And I did go down to the ranch +to tell you. But I--you were so--occupied--in other directions--" She +let go his wrists, and began fumbling at her hair, and she bowed her +head again so that her face was hidden from him. + +"You could have told me, anyway," Good Indian said constrainedly. + +"You didn't want her to know. I couldn't, before her. And I didn't want +to--hurt her by--" Miss Georgie fumbled more with her words than with +her hair. + +"Well, there's no use arguing about that." Good Indian also found that +subject a difficult one. "You say he was shot. Did he say--" + +"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 look--I've seen them in wrecks, and I know. He won't talk; he +can't. But there'll be an investigation--and 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 handle." + +"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 +hairs wound up," he grumbled. + +"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, anyway--witness the way you bawled him out that +day you roped--ow-w!--roped the dog. Baumberger may have wanted him +to keep an eye on you--My Heavens, man! Do you think you're plucking a +goose?" + +"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 you--and 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 still--but I suppose you can't. + +"By the way," he remarked casually, after a short silence, save for an +occasional squeal from Miss Georgie, "speaking of Saunders--I didn't +shoot him." + +Miss Georgie looked up at him, to the further entanglement of her hair. +"You DIDN'T? Then who did?" + +"Search ME," he offered figuratively and briefly. + +"Well, I will." Miss Georgie spoke with a certain decisiveness, and +reaching out a sage-soiled hand, took his gun from the holster at his +hip. He shrank away with a man's instinctive dislike of having anyone +make free with his weapons, but it was a single movement, which he +controlled instantly. + +"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 witness-box--I +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 rod with you," she +added, "which would hardly be likely." + +"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. "Twenty-four--that fast freight--is 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." + +"I was under the impression that my name is Grant--to friends." + +"My name is 'Dennis,' if I don't beat that freight," she retorted +curtly. "Take your knife and give me a hair cut--quick! I can do it a +different way, and cover up the place." + +"Oh, all right--but 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, and we've been fooling when we should have +been discussing 'ways and means.'" + +"Well, I got up early, and someone took a shot at me again. This time he +clipped my hat-brim." 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 +sight--we'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 down--oh, 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 want to get hung up +somewhere again." + +She stood up straight, with a long, deep sigh of relief. + +"Now, pikeway," he smiled. "And don't run bareheaded through the +bushes again. You've still got time to beat that train. And--about +Saunders--don't worry. I can get to the ranch without being seen, and no +one will know I was up here, unless you tell them." + +"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 +me--and leave tracks all over the country. Keep on the lava rock. +Haven't you got any sense at all?" + +"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. Really, you must!" her eyes +implored him. + +"Oh, vey-ree well. We haven't met this morning. Good-by, +Squaw-talk-far-off. 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, sage-covered hill to the west. + + + +CHAPTER XXII. A BIT OF PAPER + +Good Indian came out upon the rim-rock, 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 back from the +rim of the bluff. + +"You no shout," she murmured gravely. "No lettum see you here. You +go quick. Ketchum you cayuse, go to ranch. You no tellum you be this +place." + +Good Indian stood still, and looked at her. She stood with her +arms folded in her blanket, regarding him with a certain yearning +steadfastness. + +"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--" + +Good Indian reached out, and caught her by both shoulders. + +"Rachel--if you did that, don't tell me about it. Don't tell me +anything. I don't ask you--I 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 begin to tremble under his fingers, and he stopped as +suddenly as he had begun. + +"You no glad? You think shame for me? You think I--all time--very--bad!" +Tragedy was in her voice, and in her great, dark eyes. Good Indian +gulped. + +"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 anything about it, why--I +wouldn't know anything about it. You sabe." + +"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 kill-dead. All time Man-that-coughs 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 soft-footedly 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 look, and went on, and turned no more toward her until he reached +his horse. + +"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. Good--by." He mounted, and rode +away. He felt, just then, that it was the kindest thing he could do. + +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. He swung his heels against Keno's +flanks, and rode home. + +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 +worrying him. + + + +"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 water-tank. "Saunders died a few minutes ago. +Pete says you better notify the coroner--and I reckon the sheriff, too. +Pretty tough to be shot down like that in broad daylight." + +"I think I'd rather be shot in daylight than in the dark," Miss Georgie +snapped unreasonably because her nerves were all a-jangle, and sent the +messages as requested. + +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 which attends death in any form. + +A dozen Indians hung about the store, the squaws peering inquisitively +in at the uncurtained window of the lean-to--where the bed held a long +immovable burden with a rumpled sheet over it--and the bucks listening +stolidly to the futile gossip on the store porch. + +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 +on--and though Pete did not say that Saunders chose to die when the +stock of paper novels was exhausted, he left that impression upon his +auditors. + +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 wards. + +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 stable-door, +in a due line southeast from the hay-corral, 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 without further fussing over +evidence, at the verdict of suicide. + +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 Saunders' passing, so far as the law was concerned. + +"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 way--for he certainly must +have known enough to put Baumberger behind the bars. + +"But I don't see," she said, in a puzzled way, "how that gun came onto +the scene. I looked all around the stable this morning, and I could +swear there wasn't any gun." + +"Well, he did pick it up--fortunately," Good Indian returned grimly. +"I'm glad the thing was settled so easily." + +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 four-thirty-five is due pretty soon--and I have +oodles of work." + +He looked at her strangely, and went away, wondering why Miss Georgie +hated so to have him in the office lately. + +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, and ready to do her a good turn +because of her interest. + +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 bright-eyed +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 shot himself?" + +Peppajee took his little stone pipe from his lips, blew a thin wreath of +smoke, and replaced the stem between his teeth, stared stolidly straight +ahead of him, and said nothing. + +"All the white men say that," Good Indian persisted, after he had waited +a minute. Peppajee did not seem to hear. + +"Sheriff say that, too. Sheriff found the gun." + +"Mebbyso sheriff mans heap damfool. Mebbyso heap smart. No sabe." + +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 the wikiup frame. + +"Yo' no speakum Rachel no more," he said gravely. "Yo' ketchum 'Vadnah; +no ketchum otha squaw. Bad medicine come. Heap much troubles come. Me no +likeum. My heart heap bad." + +"I'm Rachel's friend, Peppajee." Good Indian spoke softly so that others +might not hear. "I sabe what Rachel do. Rachel good girl. I don't want +to bring trouble. I want to help." + +Peppajee snorted. + +"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 speakum Rachel no more, yo' be friend. + +"Yo' speakum, me like to kill yo', mebbyso." He spoke calmly, but none +the less his words carried conviction of his sincerity. + +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 eyes. + +"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 trouble." He stopped and listened, but there was no +sound within. + +Peppajee eyed him comprehendingly, but there was no yielding in his +brown, wrinkled face. + +"Yo' Rachel's frien', yo' pikeway," he insisted doggedly. + +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 Indian closed his hand upon it, and stood up. + +"All right, I go," he said calmly to Peppajee, and mounted. + +Peppajee looked at him stolidly, and said nothing. + +"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 you +no help?" + +Peppajee's mouth straightened in a grin of pure irony. + +"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 go. Me no care." + +"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 unfolded it carefully and looked at it long. + +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 wrapping--paper. It said +simply: + +"God by i lov yo." + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. THE MALICE OF A SQUAW + +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 by +the corner of the house, and listened shamelessly. + +"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 mischief-making old hag, and +she--oh, I'd like to beat her!" + +Hagar shook her head violently, and her voice rose shrill and malicious, +cutting short Evadna's futile defiance. + +"Ka-a-ay bueno, yo'!" Her teeth gnashed together upon the words. "I no +tellum lie. Good Injun him kill Man-that-coughs. 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 Man-that-coughs. I tellum--" + +"Why didn't you, then, when the sheriff was in Hartley?" Evadna flung at +her angrily. "Because you know it's a lie. That's why." + +"Yo' thinkum Good Injun love yo', mebbyso." Hagar's witch-grin was at +its malevolent widest. Her black eyes sparkled with venom. "Yo' heap +fool. Good Injun go all time Squaw-talk-far-off. Speakum glad word. Good +Injun ka-a-ay bueno. Love Squaw-talk-far-off. 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 doorway. + +"Don't you listen to her, honey." It was Phoebe's turn to reassure. + +Good Indian took a step forward, his face white with rage. Viney saw him +first, muttered an Indian word of warning, and the three sprang up and +backed away from his approach. + +"So you've got to call me a murderer!" he cried, advancing threateningly +upon Hagar. "And even that doesn't satisfy you. You--" + +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 us--what 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 of his face +frightened her. + +Old Hagar spat viciously at them both, and shrilled vituperative +sentences--in 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 dialect of her tribe. + +"Yo' tellum me shont-isham. Mebbyso yo' tellum yo' no ketchum +Squaw-talk-far-off in sagebrush, all time Saunders go dead! Me ketchum +hair--Squaw-talk-far-off 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 hair--the hair of +Miss Georgie, without a doubt. There was no gainsaying that color and +texture. She looked full at Evadna. + +"Yo' like see, me show whereum walk," she said grimly. "Good Injun boot +make track, Squaw-talk-far-off little shoe make track. Me show, yo' +thinkum mebbyso me tell lie. Stoppum in sagebrush, ketchum hair. Me +ketchum knife--Good Injun knife, mebbyso." Revenge mastered cupidity, +and she produced that also, and held it up where they could all see. + +Evadna looked and winced. + +"I don't believe a word you say," she declared stubbornly. "You STOLE +that knife. I suppose you also stole the hair. You can't MAKE me believe +a thing like that!" + +"Squaw-talk-far-off 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 in that one particular. + +"Squaw-talk-far-off sabe Good Injun killum Man-that-coughs, mebbyso," +she hazarded, watching Good Indian's face cunningly to see if the guess +struck close to the truth. + +"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 you--because you're such a devil I couldn't stop short of killing +you, once I laid my hands on 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. + +"Pikeway!" he commanded. + +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 +then--did Hagar--and waddled after the others, her whole body seeming to +radiate contentment with the evil she had wrought. + +"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 story--not 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 Indians--squaws 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 murder you. It's in her +to do it, if she ever got the chance." + +"What do you suppose made her ring Georgie Howard in like that?" Phoebe +speculated, looking at Grant. "She must have some grudge against her, +too." + +"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 they +show up at the station." + +"Oh--h!" Evadna gave the word that peculiar, sliding inflection of +hers which meant so much, and regarded him unwinkingly, with her hands +clasped behind her. + +Good Indian knew well the meaning of both her tone and her stare, but he +only laughed and caught her by the arm. + +"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, Goldilocks--we haven't had a real satisfying sort of scrap +for several thousand years." + +She permitted him to lead her to the hammock, and pile three cushions +behind her head and shoulders--with the dark-blue one on top because her +hair looked well against it--and dispose himself comfortably where he +could look his fill at her while he swung the hammock gently with his +boot-heel, 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 finger-tip in turn, +she was as passive as a doll under the caresses of a child. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded, when he found that her manner did not +soften. "Worrying still about what that old squaw said?" + +"Not in the slightest." Evadna's tone was perfectly polite--which was a +bad sign. + +Good Indian thought he saw the makings of a quarrel in her general +attitude, and he thought he might as well get at once to the real root +of her resentment. + +"What are you thinking about? Tell me, Goldilocks," he coaxed, pushing +his own troubles to the back of his mind. + +"Oh, nothing. I was just wondering--though it's a trivial matter which +is hardly worth mentioning--but I just happened to wonder how you came +to know that Georgie Howard is in the habit of giving candy to the +squaws--or 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 else--something which he +felt he must keep to himself even in the face of her anger. But this--he +laughed again. + +"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 me--I 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 law--used 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 doing about it. +That's what's keeping him, of course. + +"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 have mo believe you could +possibly be jealous!" + +"No," said Evadna, in a more amiable tone. "Of course I'm not. But I do +think you showed a--well, 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 +instance--why 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 know. And you see--" + +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 she had started out to say. + +"You see, that gave old Hagar a chance to accuse you of--well, 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! And--Grant, where DID she get hold of that knife, do you +suppose--and--that--bunch of--hair?" 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 it certainly WAS Georgie's +hair." + +"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, but seeing it wasn't YOUR hair--" + +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, +Squaw-with-sun-hair," 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 shows that the hour had not been spent in quarreling, +at all events. + +"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." + +"You don't realize how hot it is," he discouraged. + +"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 +squaw--the one that caught Huckleberry the other day, you know--would +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 you were, and looked so--" + +"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, all right, +when the old man's gone. We'll go up this evening, if you like." + +Evadna eyed him with open suspicion, but if she could read his real +meaning from anything in his face or his eyes or his manner, she must +have been a very keen observer indeed. + +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 difference if Miss Georgie did not hear of it immediately. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. PEACEFUL RETURNS + +That afternoon when the four-thirty-five 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 discomfort of that searing sunlight. + +"Howdy, Miss Georgie?" he wheezed, as he passed the window. "Ever see +such hot weather in your life? _I_ never did." + +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 loose-lipped 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 for the present. + +"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 Hamilton was resting after the +excitement of the past thirty-six hours. + +"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, white-bearded old man thought her a meddlesome fool. + +"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 drawled, and waited placidly for her to speak. + +"You just about swear by old Baumberger, don't you?" she began +presently, fiddling with her lead pencil and going straight to the heart +of what she wanted to say. + +"Well, I dunno. I've kinda learned to fight shy of swearing by anybody, +Miss Georgie." His mild blue eyes settled attentively upon her flushed +face. + +"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 placer-claim 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 technically within their rights in making lawful improvements on +their claims. + +"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, I suppose. I know the whole eight have been up--" + +"Yes, they've all filed--twenty acres apiece--the 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 discouragement in his voice which it hurt Miss Georgie to hear. + +"Well, they've got to prove that those claims of theirs are lawful, you +know. And if you've got your patent for the homestead--you have got +a patent, haven't you?" Something in his face made her fling in the +question. + +"Y-es--or I thought I had one," he answered dryly. "It seems now there's +a flaw in it, and it's got to go back to Washington and be rectified. It +ain't legal till that's been done." + +Miss Georgie half rose from her chair, and dropped back despairingly. +"Who found that mistake?" she demanded. "Baumberger?" + +"Y-es, 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 course. Baumberger was real put out about it." + +"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 death." She turned and faced +Peaceful anxiously. + +"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 reason--perhaps +because Grant has shown his hostility from the first. Did you know +Saunders--or someone--has been shooting at Grant from the top of +the bluff for--well, ever since you left? The last shot clipped his +hat-brim. Then Saunders was shot--or shot himself, according to the +inquest--and there has been no more rifle practice with Grant for the +target." + +"N-no, 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 case--Black. +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 does--but I don't. Not by +a long shot. Black'll ferret out any crooked work." + +"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 I--well, I struck up a mild sort of +flirtation with the operator at Shoshone." She smiled deprecatingly at +Peaceful. + +"I wanted to find out--and 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 news-agent and cigar man--you know that kind of joint, where they +sell paper novels and magazines and tobacco and such--getting 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 that--but 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." + +Miss Georgie laughed ruefully, and patted her pompadour absent-mindedly. + +"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 easy-tempered!" She went and looked out +of the window again uneasily. + +"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 longer--he's looking +this way pretty often, I notice; nothing but the beer-keg holds him, I +imagine. And when he empties that--" She shrugged her shoulders, and sat +down facing Hart. + +"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 ranch--but 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 catch him napping, Mr. Hart." + +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 taking such an +interest--and I'll tell Black about Jim Wakely." + +"Don't build any hopes on Jim," she warned. "He probably doesn't know +anything except that he sent and received messages he couldn't read any +sense into." + +"Well--there'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, old-fashioned bow, and went over to +join Baumberger--and to ask Pete Hamilton for the use of his team and +buckboard. + +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 office door, because she felt +that she was being watched. + +"How, Hagar, and Viney, and Lucy," she greeted languidly when she saw +the three squaws sidle closer, and reached for a bag of candy for them. + +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 time it was not empty. + +"Ketchum sagebrush," she announced laconically. "Mebbyso yo' like for +buy?" + +Miss Georgie stared fixedly at the hand, and said nothing. Hagar drew it +under her blanket, held it fumbling there, and thrust it forth again. + +"Ketchum where ketchum hair," she said, and her wicked old eyes twinkled +with malice. "Mebbyso yo' like for buy?" + +Miss Georgie still stared, and said nothing. Her under lip was caught +tightly between her teeth by now, and her eyebrows were pulled close +together. + +"Ketchum much track, same place," said Hagar grimly. "Good Injun makeum +track all same boot. Seeum Good Injun creep, creep in bushes, all time +Man-that-coughs 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 tell, mebbyso." + +Miss Georgie felt blindly for her chair, and when she touched it she +backed and sank into it rather heavily. She looked white and sick, and +Hagar eyed her gloatingly. + +"Yo' no like for Good Injun be killum rope," she chuckled. "Yo' all time +thinkum heap bueno. Mebbyso yo' love. Yo' buy? Yo' payum much dolla?" + +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 bright-red 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. "You no be sad. No trouble come Good +Injun. I friend." + +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 her chin at Miss Georgie. + +"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 Man-that-coughs." Turning, she waddled out, +jabbing viciously at the young squaw with her elbow as she passed, and +spitting out some sort of threat or command--Miss Georgie could not tell +which. + +The young squaw lingered, still gazing shyly at Miss Georgie. + +"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 +half-moons 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 "Ah-h-CHUCK! ah-h-CHUCK!" of the steam pump down the track, +and to the spasmodic clicking of an order from the dispatcher to the +passenger train two stations to the west. + +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 the office. + +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 +saddle-horse; 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. + + + +CHAPTER XXV. "I'D JUST AS SOON HANG FOR NINE MEN AS FOR ONE" + +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 toward him. + +"I said HULLO. Nothin' wrong in that, is there? HULLO--d'yuh hear?" + +"Go to the devil!" said Grant shortly. + +Baumberger leered at him offensively. "Pretty Polly! Never learned but +one set uh words in his life. Can't yuh say anything but 'Go to the +devil!' when a man speaks to yuh? Hey?" + +"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 point if I were you." + +"Giving me advice, hey? And who the devil are you?" + +"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 +the side of a barn if he'd been locked inside it. You ought to have made +sure--" + +Baumberger glared at him, and then lunged, his eyes like an animal gone +mad. + +"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 Injun--and if he couldn't, I can! +Yuh WILL watch me, hey?" + +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. Heat-mad +and drink-mad 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 one of his catlike motions, pulled a gun, and fired without really +taking aim. + +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 boys--Wally +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. Peaceful stood beside the +team, with the lines still in his hand. + +It was Miss Georgie's words which reached him clearly. + +"You just HAD to do it, Grant. I saw the whole thing. You HAD to." + +"Oh, Grant--GRANT! What have you done? What have you done?" That was +Phoebe Hart, saying the same thing over and over with a queer, moaning +inflection in her voice. + +"D'yuh KILL him?" Gene shouted excitedly, as he ran up to the spot. + +"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 the road in the direction of +the garden. + +"He's mad! The boy is mad! He's going to kill--" Phoebe gave a sob, and +ran after him, and with her went Miss Georgie and Evadna, white-faced, +all three of them. + +"Come on, boys--he's going to clean out the whole bunch!" whooped Gene. + +"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 lightning-stricken 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 unobtrusively ready for whatever might be going to +happen. + +Good Indian appraised the situation with a quick glance as he came up, +but he did not slacken his pace until he was within ten feet of Stanley. + +"You're across the dead line, m' son," said Stanley, with lazy +significance. "And you, too," he added, flickering a glance at Miss +Georgie. + +"The dead line," said Good Indian coolly, "is beyond the Point o' Rocks. +I'd like to see you on the other side by sundown." + +Stanley looked him over, from the crown of his gray hat to the tips of +his riding-boots, and laughed when his eyes came back to Good Indian's +face. But the laugh died out rather suddenly at what he saw there. + +"Got the papers for that?" he asked calmly. But his jaw had squared. + +"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 face--and +Stanley's right hand, too, perhaps. "If you don't want the same +medicine, I'd advise you to quit." + +Stanley's jaw dropped, but it was surprise which slackened the muscles. + +"You--shot--" + +"Baumberger. I said it." + +"You'll hang for that," Stanley stated impersonally, without moving. + +Good Indian smiled, but it only made his face more ominous. + +"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 soon," he added composedly, "be +hanged for nine men as for one." + +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 gun-butts. Old Peaceful half-raised his rifle, and held it so. It +was like being compelled to watch a fuse hiss and shrivel and go black +toward a keg of gun-powder. + +"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 personal resentment in tone or manner, and raked the match along his +thigh. + +Good Indian's shoulders went up a little. + +"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 +friends--and NO ONE ELSE. Tell that to your pals, unless you've got a +grudge against them!" + +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 business proposition. + +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 sight of something she was +carrying in her hand, and he gave a short laugh. + +"What are you doing with that thing?" he asked peremptorily. + +Miss Georgie blushed very red, and slid the thing into her pocket. + +"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 Stanley--when you turned your back on him." + +Good Indian stopped, looked at her queerly, and went on again without +saying a word. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. "WHEN THE SUN GOES AWAY" + +"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 +seeing such things happen--" + +"Where is she?" Good Indian asked tersely, and was answered immediately +by the sound of sobbing on the east porch. The three went together, but +it was Grant who reached her first. + +"Don't cry, Goldilocks," he said tenderly, bending over her. "It's all +right now. There isn't going to be any more--" + +"Oh! Don't TOUCH me!" She sprang up and backed from him, horror plain in +her wide eyes. "Make him keep away, Aunt Phoebe!" + +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 woman--I'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." + +"He--KILLED 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 mark--where he grazed my arm! And he LAUGHED about it! +I called him a savage then--and I was RIGHT--only he can be so nice when +he wants to be--and I forgot about the Indian in him--and 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 indignantly. + +"'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 image--didn't you ever see a case +of nerves before? She doesn't know what she's saying--if she did, she +wouldn't be saying it. You go on, and let me handle her alone. Men are +just a nuisance in a case like this." + +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 +must not take Evadna seriously, because she did not. + +"We'd better take her to her room, Mrs. Hart," she suggested, "and make +her lie down for a while. That poor fellow--as if he didn't have enough +on his hands without this!" + +"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! I--" + +"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 and a coward if he hadn't. You come +and lie down a while." + +"I WON'T lie down. I don't care if he did have to do it--I couldn't +love him afterward. And he didn't have to go down there and threaten +Stanley--and--HE'LL DO IT, TOO!" She fell to trembling again. "He'll DO +it--at sundown." + +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 me--Oh, what does he think I AM?" She leaned against the wall, +and sobbed. + +"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 was up there killing Saunders--" + +"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 had been a ten-year-old child in a +tantrum. + +"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 and--STAY +there. Do you hear? And don't you dare let another yip out of you till +you can talk sense." + +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 room--it +sounded almost as if she dragged her there by force--and 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 been itching for something like this +ever since the trouble started. + +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 something--something that would hurt him more +than he had been hurt since his father died in that same house. But in +the meantime he need only think. + +The shadow of the grove, with the long fingers of the 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 lily-pad 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. + +Phoebe came out from the sitting-room, ran down the steps, and barred +his way. + +"Grant!" she said, and there were tears in her eyes, "don't do anything +rash--don't. If it's for our sakes--and I know it is--don'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 war-talk." He hesitated, bent his head, and kissed her on +the forehead as she stood looking up at him, and went on. + +"Grant--GRANT!" she cried heartbrokenly after him, and sank down on the +porch-steps with her face hidden in her arms. + +Miss Georgie was standing beside the gate, looking toward the stable. +She may not have been waiting for him, but she turned without any show +of surprise when he walked up behind her. + +"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 +dead-line by sundown. There goes Stanley now. Do you really feel that +your future happiness depends on getting through this gate? Well--if you +must--" She swung it open, but she stood in the opening. + +"Grant, I--it's hard to say just what I want to say--but--you did right. +You acted the man's part. No matter what--others--may 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, to--to help--you'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 you 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 fight--and there did seem to be the makings of a +beautiful row!" + +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 +could not have told that Miss Georgie remembered anything tragic. + +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 bay. "It just occurred to me that there +must have been." + +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 them--the old blackmailer! She made +threats, Grant--about Saunders. She says you--I 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. What shall I tell her? We +can't have that story mouthed all over the country." + +Good Indian twisted a wisp of mane in his fingers, and frowned +abstractedly. + +"If you'll ride on slowly," he told her, at last straightening the +twisted lock, "I'll overtake you. I think I'd better see that old +Jezebel myself." + +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 he were thinking deeply. Perhaps he was glad to be let off so easily. + +"Abandoning my claim," he announced, lightly as a man of his prosaic +temperament could speak upon such a subject. "Dern poor placer mining +down there, if yuh want to know!" + +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 +beside him. And the woman understood, and was glad that she was there. + +From the Indian camp, back in the sage-inclosed hollow, rose a sound +of high-keyed wailing. The two heard it, and looked at each other +questioningly. + +"Something's up over there," Good Indian said, answering her look. "That +sounds to me like the squaws howling over a death." + +"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 +into the camp. + +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 him +instead. + +"What's the matter here, Peppajee?" he asked. "Heap trouble walk down at +Hart Ranch. Trouble walk here all same, mebbyso?" + +Peppajee looked at him sourly, but the news was big, and it must be +told. + +"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 eatum--all time heap sad. Ketchum bad spirit, mebbyso. +Ketchum debbil. Sun go 'way, ketchum knife, go Hagar wikiup. +Killum Hagar--so." He thrust out his arm as one who stabs. "Killum +himself--so." He struck his chest with his clenched fist. "Hagar heap +dead. Rachel heap dead. Kay bueno. Mebbyso yo' heap bad medicine. Yo' +go." + +"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. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. LIFE ADJUSTS ITSELF AGAIN TO SOME THINGS + +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 rim-rock 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 tried--with the aid of +various plugs of tobacco and much expectoration--the case and rendered +a unanimous verdict upon it long before the coroner arrived. "Done just +right," was the verdict of Public Opinion, and the self-constituted +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 +courage to defend himself and those dear to him from a great danger. + +With everything so agreeably disposed of according to the crude--though +none the less true, perhaps--ethics 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 official approval. + +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 the rough box was lowered to +the station platform. + +As the sky clears and grows blue and deep and unfathomably peaceful +after a storm, as trees wind-riven straighten and nod graciously to the +little cloud-boats that sail the blue above, and wave dainty finger-tips +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 +train--which bore the coroner and that other quiet passenger--came +faintly down over the rim-rock, settle with a sigh of relief into its +old, easy habits of life. + +All, that is, save Good Indian himself, and perhaps one other. + + . . . . . . . . . + +Peaceful cleared his white mustache and beard from a few stray drops of +coffee and let his mild blue eyes travel slowly around the table, from +one tanned young face to another. + +"Now the excitement's all over and done with," he drawled in his +half-apologetic 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 spoiled already; but the small fruit can be saved." + +"Clark and I was going up to the Injun camp," spoke up Gene. "We wanted +to see--" + +"You'll have to do some riding to get there," Good Indian informed them +dryly. "They hit the trail before sunrise this morning." + +"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 milk-house now, Mother Hart," he +promised lightly, "so you won't have to wear rubber-boots 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 +long-handled shovel is?" Again he eyed Evadna without seeming to see her +at all. + +"If it isn't down at the stable," said Jack soberly, "or by the +apple-cellar 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 slammed, and Jack laughed with his eyes fast shut and +three dimples showing. + +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, "or--WHISTLE, after--" Her +lips quivered a little. She was a distressed Christmas angel, if ever +there was one. + +Wally snorted. "Want us to go CRYING around because the row's over?" he +demanded. "Think Grant ought to wear crepe, I suppose--because he ain't +on ice this morning--or 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 Wally to +make, and he made it with deliberate malice. + +"Now you're shouting!" applauded Gene, also with the intent to be +shocking. + +"THAT'S the stuff," approved Clark, grinning at Evadna's horrified eyes. + +"Grant can run over me sharp-shod 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 +hope?" + +"Good Injun's the stuff, all right. He'd 'a' licked the hull damn--" + +"Now, Donny, be careful what language you use," Phoebe admonished, and +so cut short his high-pitched song of praise. + +"I don't care--I 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 her--which he did. Evadna shivered, pressed her +wisp of handkerchief against her lips, and left the table hurriedly. + +"You boys ought to be ashamed of yourselves!" Phoebe scolded +half-heartedly; 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 life--unless he was laid out in +church with flower-anchors piled knee-deep all over him. And to see +one shot right before her very eyes--and by the man she expects--or did +expect to marry--why, 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 rocks which formed the floor +of the milk-house. + +"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 +maybe." + +"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 voice. + +"About Vadnie--and you. I notice you don't speak--you haven't that I've +seen, since that day--on 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, Grant--and 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 minute, but when he did he spoke very +quietly, stroking her hair the while. + +"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 savage--an Indian. My mother's mother was the daughter +of a chief. She was a good woman; my mother was a good woman; just as +good as if she had been white. + +"Mother Hart, I'm a white man in everything but half my mother's blood. +I don't remember her--but 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 and--and take her in my arms--and love +her, knowing that she feels as she does? She can't even forgive me for +killing that beast! + +"She's a beautiful thing--I 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 drip-dripped to the pool below. + +"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 of--oh, +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 when--she +went on so. She doesn't know anything about the realities of life. She +doesn't mean to be hard." + +"Yesterday," said Grant with an odd little smile, "she was not +hysterical. It seems that--shooting--was 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 her--and I didn't satisfactorily explain about that hair +and knife that Hagar had. And--oh, it isn't the killing, altogether! I +guess we were both a good deal mistaken in our feelings." + +"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 +extravagance--she shook her head at it. That was not what she had been +taught to call love, and she wondered how a man and a maid could be +mistaken about so vital an emotion. + +"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 MISTAKEN!" + +Good Indian gave her one of his quick, sidelong glances. + +"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! +Bull-headed, 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. + +Good Indian laughed softly and bent to his work again. + +"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 long--only _I_ +don't call it love! You might tell me--" + +"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 his fingers impatiently so that the +last drops hurried to the pool. + +"She's a good girl, and a brave girl," Phoebe remarked irrelevantly. + +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 surrender. + +"Squaw-talk-far-off heap smart," he mimicked old Peppajee gravely. "Heap +bueno." He stood up as suddenly as he had started his rock-lifting 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 whimsically. "Give a fellow time to roll a +cigarette, can't you?" + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Good Indian, by B. M. 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BOWER + +1912 + +I PEACEFUL HART RANCH +II GOOD INDIAN +III OLD WIVES' TALES +IV THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL +V "I DON'T CARE MUCH ABOUT GIRLS" +VI THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL PLAYS GHOST +VII MISS GEORGIE HOWARD, OPERATOR +VIII THE AMIABLE ANGLER +IX PEPPAJEE JIM "HEAP SABES" +X MIDNIGHT PROWLERS +XI "YOU CAN'T PLAY WITH ME" +XII "THEM DAMN' SNAKE" +XIII CLOUD-SIGN VERSUS CUPID +XIV THE CLAIM-JUMPERS +XV SQUAW-TALK-FAR-OFF HEAP SMART +XVI "DON'T GET EXCITED!" +XVII A LITTLE TARGET PRACTICE +XVIII A SHOT FROM THE RIM-ROCK +XIX EVADNA GOES CALLING +XX MISS GEORGIE ALSO MAKES A CALL +XXI SOMEBODY SHOT SAUNDERS +XXII A BIT OF PAPER +XXIII THE MALICE OF A SQUAW +XXIV PEACEFUL RETURN +XXV "I'D JUST AS SOON HANG FOR NINE MEN AS FOR ONE" +XXVI "WHEN THE SUN GOES AWAY" +XXVII LIFE ADJUSTS ITSELF AGAIN TO SMALL THINGS + + + + +GOOD INDIAN +by +B.M. Bower + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +PEACEFUL HART RANCH + +It was somewhere in the seventies when old Peaceful Hart woke to +a realization that gold-hunting and lumbago do not take kindly to +one another, and the fact that his pipe and dim-eyed 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 new-made 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 with and fed, but enemies to be fought, +upon occasion. + +They felt that fate had cheated them--did 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 mildest-mannered man who ever helped to tame the West when it +really needed taming, had somehow fathered five riotous young +males to whom fight meant fun--and the fiercer, the funnier. + +He used to suck at his old, straight-stemmed 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 +pale-blue eyes dwell speculatively upon the face of his wife, +Phoebe. Clearly he considered that she was responsible for their +dispositions. + +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, and stole bread from Phoebe's +pantry at night--but that is a story in itself. + +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 +buttermilk, and cream. + +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 fingers, far up the bluff when +the sun sank low in the afternoon. + +Behind them grew a small jungle of trees-catalpa and locust among +them--a jungle which surrounded the house, and in summer hid it +from sight entirely. + +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 humming--birds 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 planned it for the +daughters he had been denied. + +It was an ideal place for hammocks and romance--a place where +dainty maidens might dream their way to womanhood. And Peaceful +Hart, when all was done, grew old watching five full-blooded 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 if he +wondered whether, after all, it had been worth while. + +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 nature. Outside the fence dwelt sturdier, Western +realities. + +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 new-gathered from the orchard or a +place at Phoebe's long table in the great kitchen. + +There was the stone blacksmith shop, where the boys sweated over +the nice adjustment of shoes upon the feet of fighting, wild-eyed +horses, which afterward would furnish a spectacle of unseemly +behavior under the saddle. + +Farther away were the long stable, the corrals where +broncho-taming 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 skyline. + +A glint of slithering green showed where the Snake hugged the +bluff a mile away, and a brown trail, ankle-deep in dust, +stretched straight out to the west, and then lost itself +unexpectedly behind a sharp, jutting point of rocks where the +blufF had thrust out a rugged finger into the valley. + +By devious turnings and breath-taking climbs, the trail finally +reached the top at the only point for miles, where it was +possible for a horseman to pass up or down. + +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 settlement or ranch. + +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 +Ranch, conjured from the sage and the sand in the valley of the +Snake. + + + +CHAPTER II + +GOOD INDIAN + +There is a saying--and if it is not purely Western, it is at +least purely American--that 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 Indian--nor in any sense +"dead"-- men called Grant Imsen "Good Indian" to his face; and if +he resented the title, his resentment was never made +manifest--perhaps 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 +man--though they also spoke of him unthinkingly as "Good Injun." + +Because old Wolfbelly himself would grudgingly admit under +pressure that the mother of Grant had been the half-caste +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 +his--not even his assured position there could keep him from +sometimes feeling quite alone, and perhaps a trifle bitter over +his loneliness. + +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 one of +the gold coins in schooling. + +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 claim--others he had +which promised little and so did not count--he 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 faced--incredulously, as is +the way with strong men--the 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 hands, and stared intently from one face to the other. + +"Mis' Hart, he ain't got--anybody--my folks--I lost track of 'em +years ago. You see to it--git some learnin' in his head. When a +man knows books--it's--like bein' heeled--good gun--plenty uh +ca't'idges-- in a fight. When I got that gold--it was like +fightin' with my bare hands--against a gatlin' gun. They coulda +cheated me--whole thing--on paper--I wouldn't know--luck--just +luck they didn't. So you take it--and git the boy schoolin'. +Costs money--I know that--git him all it'll buy. Send him-- +where they keep--the best. Don't yuh let up--n'er let +him--whilst they's a dollar left. Put it all--into his +head--then he can't lose it, and he can--make it earn more. +An'--I guess I needn't ask yuh--be good to him. He ain't got +anybody--not a soul--Injuns don't count. You see to it--don't +let up till--it'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 to--and +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 immediate vicinity. + +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 him. + +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 sage-clothed 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 bitterness. + +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 blanket and frowsy braids. + +"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 living. + +"Huh! All same buy one good hoss." The braided one dropped the +hat, hitched his blanket over his shoulder in stoical disregard +of the heat, and turned away. + +Pete replaced the cover, seemed about to place the box upon the +shelf behind him, and then evidently decided that it was not +worth the effort. He sighed again. + +"It is almighty hot," he mumbled languidly. "Want another drink, +Good Injun?" + +"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 cellar where it isn't two hundred in the shade. Why +don't you?" + +"We was going to get ice t'day, but they didn't throw it off when +the train went through." + +"That's comforting--to a man with a thirst like the great Sahara. +Ice! Pete, do you know what I'd like to do to a man that mentions +ice after a drink like that?" + +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 going--for a drink out of that spring, if nothing +else. You've lost a good customer to-day, Pete. I rode up here +prepared to get sinfully jagged--and here I've got to go on a +still hunt for water with a chill to it--or maybe buttermilk. +Pete, do you know what I think of you and your joint?" + +"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 post-office. "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 bareheaded, and carried a door key suspended +from a smooth-worn bit of wood. + +"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 late--as 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 knows--and 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 post-office, bored beyond words with life as it must be +lived--to judge from her tone and her attitude. + +"For Heaven's sake, Pete," she went on languidly, "can't you +scare up a novel, or chocolates, or gum, or--ANYTHING to kill +time? I'd even enjoy chewing gum right now--it would give my +jaws something to think of, anyway." + +Pete, grinning indulgently, came out of retirement behind the +pigeonholes, and looked inquiringly around the store. + +"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 is something to read. +Haven't you even got an almanac?" + +"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 above, those two +hours!" She struck both fists despairingly upon the counter. + +"I've got gumdrops, and fancy mixed--" + +"Forget it, then. A five-pound box of chocolates is due--on +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 desperate I am for something +to do!" + +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 In--er--Mr. +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 twenty-three years +old." He felt that the inference was too plain to be ignored. + +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 really pathetic." + +Pete bristled--as much as a fat man could bristle on so hot a +day. "Well, you said you wanted to flirt, and so I took it for +granted you'd like--" + +Good Indian looked straight past the girl, and scowled at Pete. + +"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 off exactly. Who is this Mr. Imsen?" + +She got no reply to that. Indeed, she did not wait for a reply. +Outside, things were happening--and, since Miss Georgie was dying +of dullness, she hailed the disturbance as a Heaven-sent +blessing, and ran to see what was going on. + +Briefly, Grant had inadvertently stepped on a sleeping dog's +paw--a 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 haste. + +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 drew it tight. + +Saunders, a weak-lunged, bandy-legged 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 tender-heartedness, waved his arms +and called aloud in the name of peace. + +"Turn him loose, I tell yuh! A helpless critter like that--you +oughta be ashamed--abusin' dumb animals that can't fight back!" + +"Oh, can't he?" Grant laughed grimly. + +"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 able-bodied man, I'd get +you, too--just to have a pair of you. Yelping, snapping curs, +both of you." He played the dog as a fisherman plays a trout. + +"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 indifferently. + +"Sure it isn't old Hagar's?" + +"No b'long-um Hagar--b'long-um Viney. Viney heap likum." + +Grant hesitated, circling erratically with his victim close to +the steps. "All right, no killum--teachum lesson, though. Viney +heap bueno squaw--heap 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 shoulder--blades. "Come along, doggie--NICE 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 the Indian camp must be. + +Old Wolfbelly had but that morning brought his thirty or forty +followers to camp in the hollow where was a spring of clear +water--the 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 laughed outright +at the panic of them. + +"Hello! Viney! I brought back your dog," he drawled. "He tried +to bite me--heap kay bueno* dog. Mebbyso you killum. Me no +hurtum--all 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 dog--sabe? No +keep--Kay bueno. All time try for bite. You cookum, no can +bite. Sabe?" + +*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 phrase, their like or dislike of an object or person. + +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 some mail for the Harts, and turned back to get it. + +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 dining-car conductor to throw off a +chunk of ice. Grant, therefore, led his horse around into the +shade, and made himself comfortable while he waited. + + + +CHAPTER III + +OLD WIVES TALES + +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 of +the dog was fresh in their minds and tickling their tongues. + +The Hart boys were assembled at the corral, halter-breaking a +three-year-old 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 grinned--grinned 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 fourteen-year-old irrepressibility. +"Does anybody know where Vadnie is? If we could spring 'em on +her and make her believe they're on the warpath--say, I'll gamble +she'd run clear to the Malad!" + +"I told her, cross my heart, this morning that the Injuns are +peaceful now. I said Good Injun was the only one that's +dangerous--oh, 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 relish. + +"Aw--there'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 gabble--there's old Hagar +waddling along like a duck. You can't make that warpath business +stick, Clark--not 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 hour--she's churning, Don--you hide in +the rocks by the milk-house 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 horse-breaking; and for the present +Clark held his peace. + +The squaws hovered there for a moment longer, peeping through the +rails. Then Hagar--she of much flesh and more temper--grunted 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 which demands +that one wait until invited to enter a strange camp. + +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 self-conscious assurance, and led +the way soft-footedly 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 butter-ladle to shake hands all around. + +"How, Hagar? How, Viney? How, Lucy? Heap glad to see you. +Bueno buttermilk--mebbyso 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 +outstretched--though 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 blanket across their milk-white lips, +and grinned in pure animal satisfaction. + +"Bueno. He-e-ap bueno!" they chorused appreciatively, and +squatted at the top of the stone steps, watching Phoebe +manipulate the great ball of yellow butter in its wooden bowl. + +After a brief silence, Hagar shook the tangle of unkempt, black +hair away from her moonlike face, and began talking in a soft +monotone, her voice now and then rising to a shrill singsong. + +"Mebbyso Tom, mebbyso Sharlie, mebbyso Sleeping Turtle all time +come along," she announced. "Stop all time corral, talk yo' +boys. Mebbyso heap likum drink yo' butter water. Bueno." + +When Phoebe nodded assent, Hagar went on to the news which had +brought her so soon to the ranch--the news which satisfied both +an old grudge and her love of gossip. + +"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 shoot--kay bueno. Wantum fight +Man-that-coughs. Come all time camp, heap yell, heap shoot some +more. I fetchum dog--Viney dog--heap dragum through +sagebrush--dog all time cry, no can get away--me thinkum kill +that dog. Squaws cry--Viney cry--Good Injun"--Hagar paused here +for greater effect--"makum horse all time buck--ridum in +wikiup--Hagar wikiup--all time breakum--no can fix that wikiup. +Good Injun, hee-e-ap 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 +dog--me think no catchum. Grant all same my boy. All time me +likum--heap bueno." + +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 stubborn under lip. + +"Wally boy, heap bueno," she said; and her malicious old face +softened as she spoke of him, dear as her own first-born. "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, hee-ee-eap kay bueno. Good Injun Grant all time +DEBBIL!" + +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 +better-hearted 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 liked Grant. + +"Viney, you tell me. Grant no come Hartley, no drunk, no yell, +no catchum you dog, no ride in Hagar's wikiup? You tell me, +Viney." + +Viney and Lucy bobbed their heads rapidly up and down. Viney, +with a sidelong glance at Hagar, spoke softly. + +"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 +dog--dog kay bueno, mebbyso me killing. Good Injun Grant no heap +yell, no shoot all time--mebbyso no drunk. No breakum wikiup. +Horse all time kay bueno, Hagar--" + +"Shont-isham!" (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, despaired of getting any nearer the +truth from any of them. + +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 voice--for the squaws knew +well the few women voices along the Snake. + +"That my girl," Phoebe explained, stopping the soft pat--pat of +her butter-ladle. + +"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 +boys--mebbyso 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 mother--all 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 +importance; but Phoebe was accustomed to treat them like spoiled +children. + +Hagar's lip was out-thrust again. "Yo' ketchum one girl, mebbyso +yo' no more likum my boy Wally. Kay bueno." + +"Heap like all my boys jus' same," Phoebe hastened to assure her, +and added with a hint of malice, "Heap like my boy Grant all +same." + +"Huh!" Hagar chose to remain unconvinced and antagonistic. "Good +Injun kay bueno. Yo' girl, mebbyso kay bueno." + +"What name yo' girl?" Viney interposed hastily. + +"Name Evadna Ramsey." In spite of herself, Phoebe felt a trifle +chilled by their lack of enthusiasm. She went back to her +butter-making in dignified silence. + +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 right--perhaps 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 by +fate, stirred slightly, her nostrils aquiver. + +"Mebbyso bueno yo' girl,', she yielded, speaking softly. +"Mebbyso see yo' girl." + +Phoebe's face cleared, and she called, in mellow crescendo: "Oh, +Va-ad-NIEE?" Immediately the singing stopped. + +"Coming, Aunt Phoebe," answered the voice. + +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 of antagonism even to the +soft eyes of Lucy, the tender, childless one. + +"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 you--and +don't look so horrified, honey!" + +Those incorrigibles, her cousins, would have whooped with joy at +her unmistakable terror when she held out a trembling hand and +gasped faintly: "H-how do you--do?" + +"This Hagar," Phoebe announced cheerfully; and the old squaw +caught the girl's hand and gripped it tightly for a moment in +malicious enjoyment of her too evident fear and repulsion. + +"This Viney." + +Viney, reading Evadna's face in one keen, upward glance, kept her +hands hidden in the folds of her blanket, and only nodded twice +reassuringly. + +"This Lucy." + +Lucy read also the girl's face; but she reached up, pressed her +hand gently, and her glance was soft and friendly. So the ordeal +was over. + +"Bring some of that cake you baked to-day, honey--and 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 blankets into place, and vanished, +soft-footed as they had come. + +"Oo-oo!" Evadna stared at the place where they were not. "Wild +Indians--I thought the boys were just teasing when they said +so--and it's really true, Aunt Phoebe?" + +"They're no wilder than you are," Phoebe retorted impatiently. + +"Oh, they ARE wild. They're exactly like in my history--and they +don't make a sound when they go--you just look, and they're gone! +That old fat one--did you see how she looked at me? As if she +wanted to--SCALP me, Aunt Phoebe! She looked right at my hair +and--" + +"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 get used to +them--" + +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 milk-house, he dragged the squaw along beside the porch, +followed by the Indians and all the Hart boys, a yelling, jeering +audience. + +"You tell her shont-isham! Ah-h--you can't break loose, you old +she-wildcat. Quit your biting, will you? By all the big and +little spirits of your tribe, you'll wish--" + +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 +unsentient stone. + +"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 Hart--didn'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 yell--all time bueno.' Quick, or +I'll land you headforemost in that pond, you infernal old hag!" + +"Good Injun hee-eeap kay bueno! Heap debbil all time." Hagar +might be short of breath, but her spirit was unconquered, and her +under lip bore witness to her stubbornness. + +Phoebe caught him by the arm then, thinking he meant to make good +his threat--and it would not have been unlike Grant Imsen to do +so. + +"Now, Grant, you let her go," she coaxed. "I know you aren't +drunk--of 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, Grant--a man can't fight a woman--" + +"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 shoe--shook her till her hair quite hid her ugly +old face from sight. + +"All right--Mother 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 shont-isham. Him all time my friend--mebbyso him no +likum you no more. + +"Huh. Get out--pikeway before I forget you're a lady!" + +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 milk-house wall; and when they were +gone, he gave a short, apologetic laugh. + +"No need to lecture, Mother Hart. I know it was a fool thing to +do; but when Donny told me what the old devil said, I was so mad +for a minute--" + +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 kitchen-door shut, and the click of the lock. He heard other +doors slam suggestively; and he laughed in spite of his +astonishment. + +"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 +ranch--and 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 like--" + +"Yes--sure. But who is the timid lady?" + +"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--" + +Wally Hart came back, laughing to himself. + +"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 +alive--she 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, mum--she said so. You're +kay bueno yourself, because you take Good Indian's part. We're +all kay bueno--all 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 yuh +do to her, anyway?" + +"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 days--if 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 Viney, +So I just led him gently to camp." + +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 wikiup--and one sniff seemed to be about all he wanted. +He didn't hurt anything." + +He took a meditative bite of cake, finished the buttermilk in +three rapturous swallows, and bethought him of the feminine +mystery. + +"If you please, Mother Hart, who was that Christmas angel I +squashed?" + +"Vad? Was Vad in on it, mum? I never saw her." Wally +straightened up with a fresh chunk of cake in his hand. "Was she +scared?" + +"Yes," his mother admitted reluctantly, "I guess she was, all +right. First the squaws--and, poor girl, I made her shake hands +all round--and then Grant here, acting like a wild hyena--" + +"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 I should have appeared at my +best. But who she is, or where she belongs--" + +"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 her--and 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 stranger--a girl especially. And I did hope Grant +would behave better." + +"Sure, he ought to. Us boneheads don't know any better--but +Grant's EDUCATED." Wally grinned and winked elaborately at his +mother's back. + +"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 months or so, +you wouldn't know the girl," Phoebe argued, with some heat. + +"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 war-whoop outa me, she'd look +at me--the 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 the truth. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL + +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 thing--but 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 nice--she'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 next. + +"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 old-fashioned 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 brown-and-white calico dress close about +her plump person, and crawled grimly through into the sitting- +room, where, to the distress of Phoebe's order-loving soul, the +carpet was daily well-sanded with the tread of boys' boots fresh +from outdoors, and where cigarette stubs decorated every +window-sill, 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 good-natured threats of various sorts, had +never before barred the way of any man, be he red or white, came +he at noon or at midnight. + +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 pillow. + +"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 minute a vividly blue eye +appeared at a narrow crack. + +"Oh, I don't see how you dare to L-LIVE in such a place, Aunt +Phoebe!" she cried tearfully, opening the door a bit wider. +"Those Indians--and that awful man--" + +"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 gentle--it'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 done a thing to +them--but they're horrid and rough, anyway--" + +"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 you--I 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. You--you'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 with a moist ball of handkerchief. + +"I know they don't, honey." Phoebe patted her hand reassuringly. +"That's what I want you to help me teach my boys--to be real +gentlemen. They're pure gold, every one of them; but I can't +deny they're pretty rough on the outside sometimes. And I hope +you will be--" + +"Oh, I know. I understand perfectly. You just got me out here +as a--a sort of sandpaper for your boys' manners!" Evadna choked +over a little sob of self-pity. "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 sensitive, because he feels his +loneliness. No one understands him as I do--" + +"I hate him!" gritted Evadna, in an emphatic whisper which her +Aunt Phoebe thought it wise not to seem to hear. + +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 +bed. + +"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 +you'll not disappoint her. You'll try; won't you, Vadnie?" + +"Y--yes," 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 none--there wasn't anything +mushy about them that I ever heard of." + +"Mushy! MUSHY!" Evadna sat up and stared at nothing at all while +she repeated the word under her breath. "She wants me to be +gentle--she preached gentleness in her letters, and told how her +boys need it, and then--she calls it being MUSHY!" + +She reached mechanically for her hair-brush, and fumbled in a +tumbled mass of shining, yellow hair quite as unbelievable in its +way as were her eyes--Grant had shown a faculty for observing +keenly when he called her a Christmas angel--and 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 +frankness, "and tarantulas and snakes--but--MUSHY!" + +Grant stood smoking in the doorway of the sitting-room, 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 walked straight over to +him. + +"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 employ--but his eyes +turned for a sidelong glance at her, although he appeared to be +watching the trout rise lazily to the insects skimming over the +surface of the water. + +"I'm supposed to be nice to you--par-TIC-ularly nice--because 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 you--I 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 dislike you +all the time." + +Grant's lips twitched, and there was a covert twinkle in his +eyes, though he looked around him with elaborate surprise. + +"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 benefited--his teeth +will be dulled for his prey, his voice softened for the +nightcry--if he should ever, by chance, discover that the +Christmas angel is there." + +"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." + +Grant turned his head indolently and regarded her. + +"If it isn't a Christmas angel--they're always very blue and very +golden, and pinky-whitey--if 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 beyond his solving, and flicked the ashes from +his cigarette. + +"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 squashed?" + +"I just wish to goodness I had! Only I suppose Aunt Phoebe--" + +"I do believe it's got a temper. I wonder, now, if it could be a +LIVE angel?" Grant spoke to the softly swaying poplars. + +"Oh, you--there 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 whether I'm alive!" she panted vindictively. + +"It's alive, and it's a humming-bird. 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 +humming-birds--so simple and so harmless!" + +"And I've promised to be nice to--THAT!" 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, and landed lightly upon her slippered +feet. + +"I hate you--hate you--HATE YOU!" she cried, her eyes blazing up +at his amused face before she ran off among the trees. + +"It sings a sweet little song," he taunted, and his laughter +followed her mockingly as she fled from him into the shadows. + +"What's the joke, Good Injun? Tell us, so we can laugh too." +Wally and Jack hurried in from the kitchen and made for the +doorway where he stood. + +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 as a sleepy bird's fluttering +wings. + +"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 grove, "we certainly did go some!" + + + +CHAPTER V + +"I DON'T CARE MUCH ABOUT GIRLS" + +"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 trouble--and, +besides, they're scared of dad. I was talking to Sleeping Turtle +just now--met him down there past the Point o' Rocks." + +"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 her--say, 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 milk-house," Wally suggested dryly. + +"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 the dead, she did!" + +"Kill the traitor! Down with him! Curses on the man who betrays +us!" growled Wally, waving his cigarette threateningly. + +Whereupon Gene and Clark seized the offender by heels and +shoulders, and with a brief, panting struggle heaved him bodily +off the porch. + +"Over the cliff he goes--so may all traitors perish!" Wally +declaimed approvingly, drawing up his legs hastily out of the way +of Jack's clutching fingers. + +"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 supper--and, 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 blanket, and to have one right at her elbow--wonder +where she is--" + +"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, yes--sure. Jack's coming down with it already. You oughta +be quarantined, old-timer; 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 sitting-room 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 hard together. She did not look, at +that moment, in the least degree "mushy." + +When the triangle clanged its supper call, however, she came +slowly down from her favorite nook at the head of the pond, her +hands filled with flowers hastily gathered in the dusk. + +"Here she comes--let'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 sugar-bowl was going after, when she settled +herself and her ruffles daintily between Grant and a braided, +green-blanketed, 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 sugar-bowl 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 more--kay +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 wachee-typo" +(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 of an affectation with Peppajee. + +"My brother, my brother's wife, my brother's wife's--ah--" 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 tea--ketchum 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. + +"Isn't it a shame they should do that," she murmured +sympathetically. + +"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." Evadna blushed, and looked studiously at +her plate. + +"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 +tea--them folks all time eatum grub, me no ketchum. Me no playum +cards, all same otha fella ketchum my grub. Kay bueno. Better +me playum cards mebbyso all time. + +"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 old-fashioned, silver +castor which always stood in the exact center of the table. + +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 face aslant. It was Good Indian +who rebuked the offender. + +"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, whose grin was growing +rather pronounced. + +"Huh. Mebbyso you boss all same this ranch?" Peppajee retorted +sourly. "Mebbyso Peacefu' tellum, him no likum." + +Peaceful, thus drawn into the discussion, cleared his throat +again. + +"Wel-l-l--WE 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 bad, Peppajee." + +"Huh. Me no makum squaw-talk." Peppajee laid down his knife, +lifted a corner of his blanket, and drew it slowly across his +stern mouth. He muttered a slighting sentence in Indian. + +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 away from the dogged silence of that +blanketed figure at her elbow. + +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 +doubt--and 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 by the arm. In the half--light she knew +him then. It was Grant. + +"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 ~high--handed +proceeding." + +When they had reached the great rock where the i pond had its +outlet, and where was a rude seat hidden away in a clump of young +willows just across the bridge, he answered her. + +"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 favor--I 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 things--a savage among the +rest--I don't like to feel such a brute as to make war on a girl +that seems to be getting it handed to her right along." + +He tardily lighted his cigarette and sat smoking beside her, the +tiny glow lighting his face briefly now and then. + +"When I was joshing you there before supper," he went on, +speaking low that he might not be overheard--and ridiculed--from +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, why--common 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 statement lessens +my dislike of you--" + +"Not at all." Grant interrupted her. "Go right ahead and hate +me, if you feel that way. It won't matter to me--girls never did +concern me much, one way or the other. I never was susceptible +to beauty, and that seems to be a woman's trump card, always--" + +"Well, upon my word!" + +"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 that--my sympathies are +always with the under dog, anyway, and they're five to one. But +that needn't mean that I'm--that 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 other--you from 'common humanity,' and +I because I promised Aunt Phoebe." + +"We-e-l!--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 +fight back--tho man who won't isn't a normal human being." + +"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 different." + +"Oh, it's different! I see. I have almost forgotten something I +ought to say, Mr. Imsen. I must thank you for--well, for +defending me to that Indian." + +"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 account, in particular." + +"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 into Peppajee." + +"That's different." She laughed shortly and left him, running +swiftly through the warm dusk to the murmur of voices at the +house. + +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 moment up at the treetops +swaying languidly just under the stars. + +"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 consider the matter very +serious, after all. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL PLAYS GHOST + +At midnight, the Peaceful Hart ranch lay broodily quiet under its +rock-rimmed bluff. Down in tho stable the saddle-horses were but +formless blots upon the rumpled bedding in their stalls--except +Huckleberry, the friendly little pinto with the white eyelashes +and the blue eyes, and the great, liver-colored 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 +silent ranch. + +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 half-heartedly at an early mosquito +that was humming in his ear. He reached out, and jogged the +shoulder of him who snored. + +"Say, Gene, if you've got to sleep at the top of your voice, you +better drag your bed down into the orchard," he growled. "Let up +a little, can't yuh?" + +"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 can't--" + +"Ah-h-EE-EE!" 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. + +"Bobcat," whispered Clark, in a tone which convinced not even +himself. + +"In a pig's ear," flouted Gene, under his breath. He leaned far +over and poked his finger into a muffled form. "D'yuh hear that +noise, Grant?" + +Grant sat up instantly. "What's tho matter?" he demanded, rather +ill-naturedly, if the truth be told. + +"Did you hear anything--a funny noise, like--" + +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 nerve-wrackingly, and then +wailed mournfully down to silence. Afterward, while their ears +were still strained to the sound, the bobcat squalled an answer +from among the rocks. + +"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 you going to do about +it?" + +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 out upon a great +lily--pad and croaked dismally. + +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 deep-throated ARR-RR-UMPH 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 freed himself +stealthily from a blanketfold. + +"If that spook don't talk Indian when it's at home, I'm very much +mistaken," he whispered to Clark, who was nearest. "You boys +stay here." + +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 +shadow-flecked patch of moonlight. Crouching low in the shade of +a clump of bushes, Grant stole toward the spot. + +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. Once more he heard the dismal cry, and fancied it held a +mocking note. + +"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 there--he 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 going quietly; what +counted most was speed. + +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 catch some sound +to guide him. + +"Well, anyhow, I didn't kill him," he muttered uneasily as he +crawled through a fence into the orchard. "He's making a pretty +swift get-away for a fellow that's been shot." + +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 a little. + +"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 raiment tangled up +in a barbed-wire fence." + +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. They stared at each other, +breathing hard from more than the race they had run. + +"Well--I'll--be--" Grant began, in blank amazement. + +She wriggled her chin in his palm, trying to free herself from +his pitiless staring. Failing that, she began to sob angrily +without any tears in her wide eyes. + +"You--shot me, you brute!" she cried accusingly at last. +"You--SHOT 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 stone-heap, and +pulled her down beside him, still holding her fast, as if he half +believed her capable of soaring away over the treetops, after +all. + +"I guess I didn't murder you--from the chase you gave me. Did I +hit you at all?" + +"Yes, you did! You nearly broke my arm--and you might have killed +me, you big brute! Look what you did--and 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 hole right +through Aunt Phoebe's sheet!" she added, with tearful severity. + +He caught her arm, bent his head over it--and 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 lifted it again, and regarded the wound +with mournful interest. + +"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 wrapped up in a sheet," +he retorted ungallantly. + +"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, anyway." + +"Will you tell me what you DID do it for? Of all the silly +tomfoolery--" + +An impish smile quite obliterated the Christmas-angel look for an +instant, then vanished, and left her a pretty, abused maiden who +is grieved at harsh treatment. + +"Well, I wanted to scare Gene," she confessed. "I did, too. I +just know he's a cowardy-cat, because he's always trying to scare +ME. It's Gene's fault--he told me the grove is haunted. He said +a long time ago, before Uncle Hart settled here, a lot of Indians +waylaid a wagon-train 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 around--only 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 satisfaction. + +"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 +girls--you 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 choose--and 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 like a white man." + +"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 +up--the INDIAN?" + +She cast a swift, half-frightened 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 have to deal with--the +Indian." + +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 nature--why, 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 were sorry." + +"I'm not in the habit of saying all I think and feel." + +"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, you--you--well, you act like the +savage you are! There, now! It may not be nice to say it, but +it's the truth." + +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 +Indian--because my mother was a half-breed." 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 eyes, and softened. + +"Oh, you're a girl, and you demand the usual amount of poor-pussy +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 well--and +I'm not a kissing young man, either, let me tell you." + +"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. + +As the wires snapped into place, she halted and looked back at +him. + +"Maybe I've been mean--but you're been meaner," she summed up, in +self-justification. "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 +to--tell. 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 fence-post, +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 jagged-rimmed +bluff standing boldly up against the star-flecked 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 to his +blankets. + +"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 shoot--what was it? Did you find out?" + +"It wasn't anything," said Grant shortly, tugging at a boot. + +"Ah--there was, too! What was it you shot at?" Clark joined in +the argument from the blackness under the locust tree. + +"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 +foster-brother. "Something yelled like--" + +"You never heard a screech-owl before, did you, Gene?" Grant +crept between his blankets and snuggled down, as if his mind held +nothing more important than sleep. + +"Screech-owl my granny! You bumped into something you couldn't +handle--if 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 was it?" + +He waited a moment without getting a reply. + +"Well, keep your teeth shut down on it, then, darn yuh!" he +growled. "That's the Injun of it--I know YOU! Screech-owl--huh! +You said when you left it was an Indian--and 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 you--and if there was one acting up +around here, we knew blamed well it was on your account for what +happened to-day. 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 get--and 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 again. + +The result proved the sort of fellow he was. Clark shut up +without even trailing off into mumbling to himself, as was his +habit when argument brought him defeat. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +MISS GEORGIE HOWARD, OPERATOR + +"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." + +"WHAT--happened last night?" Evadna wore her Christmas-angel +expression; and her tone was the sweet, insipid tone of childlike +innocence. + +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 it. + +"There was a noise when the moon had just come up--didn'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 fight when he came back, and +he's pulled out this morning--" + +"Do you mean to tell me--did you see it, really?" + +"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 winced perceptibly. "What yuh jumping for? You +didn't see anything, did you?" + +"No; but--was there REALLY something?" Evadna freed herself as +unobtrusively as possible, and looked at him with wide eyes. + +"You ask Clark. He'll tell you--maybe. Good Injun's scared +clean off the ranch--you 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 it. They believe in spirits and +signs and things." + +Evadna turned thoughtful. "And didn't he tell you what he--that +is, if he found out--you said he went after it--" + +"He wouldn't say a blamed thing about it," Gene complained +sincerely. "He said there wasn't anything--he told us it was a +screech-owl." + +"Oh!" Evadna gave a sigh of relief. "Well, I'm going to ask +Clark what it was--I'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 there--without even your mother with you!" + +She smiled the credulous smile of ignorant innocence and pulled +the gate open. + +"Jack promised to take me up to Hartley to-day," 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 +perambulations entirely to the conventional midnight hour." + +Gene did not make any reply. Indeed, he seemed wholly absorbed +in staring after her and wondering just how much or how little of +it she meant. + +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 herself with the simple, unqualified +statement that she was glad of it. + +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 post-office 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 tolerance. + +"When you get ready to go home, you can come to the store," he +said bluntly. "Huckleberry wouldn't stand here if you hog-tied +him. Just remember that if you ever ride up here alone--it might +save you a walk back. And say," he added, with a return of his +good-natured grin, "it looks like you and Good Injun didn't get +acquainted yesterday. I thought I saw mum give him an +introduction to you--but I guess I made a mistake. When you come +to the store, don't let me forget, and I'll do it myself." + +"Oh, thank you, Jack--but it isn't necessary," chirped Evadna, +and left him with the smile which he had come to regard with +vague suspicion of what it might hide of her real feelings. + +Two squaws sat cross-legged 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 by Miss Georgie Howard, then in one of her +daily periods of intense boredom. + +"My, my, but you're an angel of deliverance--and 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 interesting," she added musingly. + +"Don't let me interrupt you," Evadna began primly. "I only came +for a money order--Aunt Phoebe's sending for--" + +"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 +mentally--only I've tagged you long ago." + +"I thought you were the express agent. Aunt Phoebe said--" + +"Nice, truthful Aunt Phoebe! I am, but I'm out--officially. I'm +several things, my dear; but, for the sake of my own dignity and +self-respect, 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 agent. I admit it. But this isn't one of the +times." + +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 way--I'm not anything official +right now. I'm a neighbor, and this is my parlor--you 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 the agent is out." + +"Well, upon my word!" Evadna permitted herself that much +emotional relief. Then she leaned her head against the +cherry-colored head-rest tied to the chair with huge, +cherry-colored bows, and took a deliberate survey of the room. + +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 small-paned 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, "Express Office: Hours, 8 A.M. to 6 +P.M." on a card above it. + +Under a small window opening upon the platform was another little +table, with indications of occasional ticket-selling 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 +sewing-basket, 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 her--head three times, and her eyes were +mirthful." It's a game. I made it a game. I had to, in +self-defense. 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 yourself holding it down for longer than a week? +I've been here a month." + +"I think," Evadna ventured, "it must be fun." + +"Oh, yes. It's fun--if 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 chair, "it will illustrate just +how I manage my system." + +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: + +"OUT. WILL BE BACK LATER." + +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 box--the five pounds of +chocolates which she had sent for. + +"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 stand--and for Heaven's sake, gossip a +little! Tell me all about that bunch of nifty lads I see +cavorting around the store occasionally--and especially about the +polysyllabic gentleman who seems to hang out at the Peaceful Hart +ranch. I'm terribly taken with him. He--excuse 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 "parlor" breathing quickly. + +"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 they were saying--but I couldn't +even guess." + +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 sometimes--in +self-defense. There are two or three fresh young men along the +line that can't seem to take a hint unless you knock them in the +head with it." + +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 store--ah--" 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 +failure--um--'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, would--or could--say that without +studying it first. It sounded awfully impromptu and easy--and +yet he looks--well, cowboyish. What sort of a young man is he?" + +"He's a perfectly horrid young man." Evadna leaned to help +herself to more chocolates. "He--well, just to show you how +horrid, he calls me a--a Christmas angel! And--" + +"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 office--I'd know his touch among a +million--and 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 whimsically. "What's that card for, I wonder?" + +She threw the switch, rattled a reply, and then, as the sounder +settled down to a steady click-clickety-click-click, 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 +weak-eyed, hollow-chested 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 receipt-book, 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 would you rather stay here? I won't be more than +two minutes." + +She was gone five; and she returned with a preoccupied air which +lasted until she had disposed of three chocolates and was +carefully choosing a fourth. + +"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 +again--and 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 human in the least like him. Did +you? So absolutely--ah--inscrutable, let us say." + +"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 me--told me, mind you--that he doesn't +like women. He actually warned me against thinking his +politeness--if he ever is polite, which I doubt--means 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 should be my +revenge." + +"I don't want any revenge. I simply want nothing to do with him. +I don't want to speak to him, even." + +"He's awfully good--looking," mused Miss Georgie. + +"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 +love--and never give up; unless the loved one disappointed him in +some way; and then he'd be strong enough to go his way and not +whine about it. I do hate a whiner! Don't you?" + +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 off--it'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 smoke-grimed window +until a movement warned her that he was through. + +"Very well--that is all," she said, after she had counted the +words twice. "Oh--you want to wait for the repeat." + +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 it down upon its form. + +"There--if 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 leering grin at Miss Georgie. + +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 her pompadour, and finally laughed at her +own uneasiness. + +"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 toad--or snake, or--ugh! And what does he +mean--sending twenty-word 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 wish--only it's unprofessional +to talk about it--but, 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 messages." + +"Maybe he's a detective," Evadna hazarded. + +"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. And--I +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 anything more +brutal than lick a postage stamp?" + +"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 +say--but I'd hate to swear to that. _I_ never could catch it +when it looked swept--and 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 commenced coming to him." + +"Why don't you turn detective yourself and find out?" Plainly, +Evadna was secretly laughing at her perturbed interest in the +matter. + +"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. +And--couldn'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 thing--where 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 fishing--but 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, +there'd be two of us--" + +"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 with--that'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 suppose--sixteen is about due. Excuse me, chicken." + +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 fish-basket slung from one +shoulder, a trout rod carefully wrapped in its case in his hand, +a box which looked suspiciously like a case of some bottled joy +at his feet, and a loose-lipped smile upon his face. + +"Howdy, Miss Georgie?" he called unctuously through the open +door. + +Miss Georgie barely glanced at him from under her lashes, and her +shoulders indulged themselves in an almost imperceptible twitch. + +"How do you do, Mr. Baumberger?" she responded coolly, and very, +very gently pushed the door shut just as he had made up his mind +to enter. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE AMIABLE ANGLER + +Baumberger--Johannes was the name he answered to when any of his +family called, though to the rest of the world he was simply +Baumberger--was 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 +tussle with that four-pounder he had lost last time. + +"And I don't go back till I get him--not if I stay here a week," +he declared, with jocular savagery. "Took half my leader and my +pet fly--I got him with a peacock-bodied gray hackle that I +revised to suit my own notions--and, 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 the four-pounder had +vanished. + +"Better take a day off and go with me, Pete," he suggested, +getting an unwieldy-looking pipe from the pocket of his canvas +fishing-coat, and opening his eyes at a trout-fly 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 +fatuous to one who has no sporting blood in his veins. + +"Last time I used that fly was when I was down here three weeks +ago--the 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 book--I must be getting +absent-minded. 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 up--a +lawyer can't afford to grow absent-minded. He's liable to wake +up some day and find himself without his practice." + +He got his fly-book 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 frail-looking five inches of gut leader, and +then returned the book fondly to the basket. + +"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 +of--ah--snake medicine," he hinted, chuckling so that the whole, +deep chest of him vibrated. "No? Well, you can let me have a +horse, I suppose--that cow-backed sorrel will do--he's gentle, I +know. I think I'll go out and beg an invitation from that Hart +boy--never can remember those kids by name--Gene, is it, or +Jack?" + +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 +after-thought, if Jack's mother had company, or anything that +would make his presence a burden. + +"Nobody's there--and, if there was, it wouldn't matter," Jack +assured him carelessly. "Go on down, if you want to. It'll be +all right with mother." + +"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 so--but it's a fact, just +the same. She sure is a genius with the frying-pan, my boy." + +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 stable. + +"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, Pete--and 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 +days--maybe 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 grind--but 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 +know--it's the one I was talking to yuh about last time I was +down. + +"W-ell--I reckon my means of conveyance is ready for me--so long, +Peter, till Sunday. See you at supper, boys." + +He hooked a thumb under the shoulder-strap 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 +of satisfaction with life which sets a cat purring. + +Some time later, he appeared, in the same jovial mood, at the +Hart ranch, and found there the welcome which he had counted +upon--the welcome which all men received there upon demand. + +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 +fishing-basket 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 loose-lipped 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 well-being. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +PEPPAJEE JIM "HEAP SABES" + +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 too-familiar dog from him with a +shove of moccasined foot, and stalked away through the sagebrush. + +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 man-made +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 surface, once he sets himself heart and muscle to the +task. + +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 dust-ridden 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 sage-roots, or +patches of deep dust and sand beside the wagon-road, his sharp, +high-featured face set in the stony calm which may hide a tumult +of elemental passions beneath and give no sign. + +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 so was lost for that +day. + +"Hello, Peppajee," called Wally over his cigarette. "Just in +time for supper." + +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 but his eyes. + +"Peppajee, this my friend, Mr. Baumberger. You heap sabe +Baumberger--come 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, +had failed to find favor in his eyes. + +"Huh!" grunted Peppajee non-commitally, and made no motion to +shake hands, thereby confirming Peaceful's suspicion. "Me heap +sabe Man-that-catchum-fish." 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 Indian's attitude, +which he attributed to racial stupidity. + +Peppajee did not even indicate that he heard or, hearing, +understood. + +"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 watchdogs--they'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 have some influence with the agent." + +"I guess you needn't go to any trouble about it," Peaceful +returned dryly. "I've had worse neighbors." + +"Oh--if 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 time-worn joke had met +with disfavor, even by the boys, who could--and usually +did--laugh 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 snow-white beard +with his free hand, pushed the pipe-stem between his teeth, and +went on smoking. + +"I never liked the breed, any way you look at 'em," Baumberger +stated calmly. + +"Say, you'll queer yourself good and plenty, if you keep on," +Wally interrupted bluntly. "Peppajee's ears aren't plugged with +cotton--are they, Jim?" + +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 he were +glad to escape from the steady, uncompromising stare of the +Indian. + +"Better come and eat, Peppajee," Peaceful lingered upon the porch +to urge hospitably. "You no get mad. You come eat supper." + +"No!" Peppajee jerked the word out with unmistakable finality. +"No eat. Bimeby mebbyso makum big talk yo'." + +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 as pleased him best. + +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 two. + +"I talk yo'. Mebbyso no talk Man-with-big-belly." He waited +impassively. + +"All right, Jim." Peaceful turned apologetically toward his +guest. "Something he wants to tell me, Baumberger; kinda +private, I guess. I'll be back in a minute, anyway." + +"Now don't mind me at all," Baumberger protested generously. "Go +ahead just as if I wasn't here--that'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 pipe. + +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 boys--all time my +frien'. Me speakum all time no lie, mebbyso." + +"No," Peaceful assented unhesitatingly, "you no tell lies, +Peppajee. We good friends, many years." + +"Huh! Man-that-catchum-fish, him no yo' frien'. Shont-isham. +All time him speakum lies--tellum 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 time him likum steal yo' ranch." + +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 sell--me 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 Man-that-coughs, +tellum him ketchum ranch. Much white man come, so--" He lifted +one hand with thumb and fingers outspread, made a downward +gesture, and then raised three fingers. "Catchum ranch." + +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 signs his exact meaning. + +Peppajee scowled, and shook his head stubbornly. "Me heap sabe. +All same, ketchum yo' ranch. Man-that-catchum-fish 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 odor of smoke from +Baumberger's pipe. + +"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 warning, and +went back to talk politics with Baumberger. + + + +CHAPTER X MIDNIGHT PROWLERS + +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 +half-dugout, half-board 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 +fellow-men 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 spring-fed 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 stable-door, shook his head in mute +displeasure, and went quietly on. As he neared the silent house, +the faint creak of saddle-leather and the rattle of spur-chains +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 pond--the 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 laid--and 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 his eyes were not used to playing him +tricks. + +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 guarded challenge: + +"Who's that?" + +A figure detached itself without sound from the blot of darkness +there, and stood almost at his stirrup. + +"Yo' Good Injun--me likum for talk yo'." + +Good Indian was conscious of a distinct disappointment, though he +kept it from his voice when he answered: + +"Oh, it's you, Peppajee. What you do here? Why you no sleepum +yo' wikiup?" + +Peppajee held up a slim, brown hand for silence, and afterward +rested it upon the saddle-fork. + +"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 he led him back into the shadow of +the rock. + +"Well, what's the row?" Good Indian asked impatiently, and +curiously as well. + +Peppajee spoke more hastily than was usual. "Me watchum +Man-that-catchum-fish. Him hee-eeap kay bueno. Me no sabe why +him walk, walk in night--me heap watchum." + +"You mean Baumberger? He's all right. He comes down here to +catchum many fish--trout, up in the Malad, you sabe. Heap friend +Peaceful. You no likum?" + +"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 stable--Pete stable--me walkum close--no +makum noise. Me hear talk. Stoppum--no can see--me 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--" + +"Baumberger?" suggested Grant. + +"Him. All same Baumberga, him talk Man-that-coughs. 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 thinkum I lie--shont-isham!" + +"What more you do?" Good Indian, at least, did not laugh. + +"Me go camp. Me thinkum, thinkum all time. Dat man have bad +heart. Kay bueno. No can sleep--thinkum mebbyso do bad for +Peaceful. Come ranch, stop all time dark, all time heap watchum. +Bimeby, mebbyso man--all same yo' callum Baumberga--him 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 noise--kay 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 statue-like 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 +ranch--the 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 +shoulder. + +"All right," he murmured close to his ear, "we go see." + +Without a word, Peppajee turned, and stole away toward the +meadows, keeping always in the shadow of rock or bush, +silent-footed as a prowling bobcat. Close behind him, not quite +so silent because of his riding-boots, 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 +Evadna--and 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 blackness of the grove. + +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 the moon-bathed world +around him. + +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. + +Peppajee grunted." What for yo' no stoppum all same Peaceful?" + +Good Indian scorned a subterfuge, and spoke truly. "That girl, +Evadna, no likum me. All time mad me. So I no stoppum ranch, no +more." + +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 rim-rock which guarded the bluff. "All same, yo' no go +stoppum Hicks," he commanded. "Yo' stoppum dis ranch all time. +Yo' all time watchum man--yo' 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 +Man-that-coughs. Me no sabe catchum ranch--all same, me watchum. +Them mans heap kay bueno. Yo' bet yo' life!" + +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 positively that there went Peppajee. + +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 fishing-tackle 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 the grove. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +"YOU CAN'T PLAY WITH ME" + +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 appeared--which was not at all. + +What did interest him that morning was the changeful mood of +Evadna; though he kept his interest so well hidden that no one +suspected it--not 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 rigorous discipline of averted face and frigid tones. + +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 pounce--he 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 standing beside the road, waving a flask. + +"It's the cream for your coffee," she cried, going to meet +Evadna. "You can slip it into your jacket-pocket, can't you, +honey? Huckleberry is so steady--and 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 +whip--a blow which would not have perturbed a mosquito--when 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 attention--and +that in spite of the distinct shadow of her head and shoulders +which lay at his feet. + +"Oh--Grant," she began perfunctorily, "I'm sorry to trouble +you--but do you happen to have an empty pocket?" + +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 pocket before he so much as glanced toward +her. + +"I may have. Why?" He picked up the bridle-reins, caught the +saddle-horn, and thrust his toe into the stirrup. From under his +hat-brim he saw that she was pinching her under lip between her +teeth, and the sight raised his spirits considerably. + +"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. + +"I'll carry it--I'm more used to packing bottles," he announced +gravely. + +"Oh, but if you must carry it in your hand, I wouldn't dream +of--" She was holding fast the bottle, and trying to wear her +Christmas-angel look. + +Good Indian laid hold of the flask, and they stood there +stubbornly eying each other. + +"I thought you wanted me to carry it," he said at last, pulling +harder. + +"I merely asked if you had an empty pocket." Evadna clung the +tighter. + +"Now, what's the use--" + +"Just what I was thinking!" Evadna was so impolite as to +interrupt him. + +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 in her eyes a sign of weakening, he +followed up the advantage he had gained. + +"Let go--because 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 set--which was not +rapid, by any means. He watched her with quick, sidelong +glances, and wondered whether he would dare say what he wanted to +say--or at least a part of it. + +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 washed-out 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 on the same ranch, we might as +well be friends. What do you say?" + +For a time he thought she was not going to say anything. She was +staring at the dust-cloud 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 words. + +"You told me you didn't like me," she reminded, looking at him +briefly, and afterward fumbling her reins. "You can't expect a +girl--" + +"I suppose you don't remember coming up to me that first night, +and calling me names, and telling me how you hated me, and--and +winding up by pinching me?" he insinuated with hypocritical +reproach, and felt of his arm. "If you could see the mark--" he +hinted shamelessly. + +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 minute," +she added, with virtuous solemnity. + +"But you're not killed, and I'm not in jail." + +"And I haven't told a living soul about it--not even Aunt +Phoebe," Evadna remarked, still painfully virtuous. "If I had--" + +"She'd have wondered, maybe, what you were doing away down there +in the middle of the night," Good Indian finished. "I didn't +tell a soul, either, for that matter." + +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 an honest impulse of friendliness. + +"Well, I'm sure I'm willing to bury the tomahawk--er--that is, I +mean--" She blushed hotly at the slip, and stammered +incoherently. + +"Never mind." His eyes laughed at her confusion. "I'm not as +bad as all that; it doesn't hurt my feelings to have tomahawks +mentioned in my presence." + +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 much-desired 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 that he +might face her squarely. + +"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 he repeated the question. + +"Do you mean that? We've been digging into each other pretty +industriously, and saying how we hate each other--but are you +willing to drop it and be friends? It's for you to say--and +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 it?" she evaded. + +"Am I to take it for granted you meant what you said?" He stuck +stubbornly to the main issue. "Girls seem to have a way of +saying things, whether they mean anything or not. Did you?" + +"Did I what?" She was wide-eyed innocence again. + +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 person who goaded him further. He glanced +at the girl sharply. + +"This thing has got to be settled right now, without any more +fooling or beating about the bush," he said--and 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 settle--in that +solemn manner. I only know we're a mile behind the others, and +Miss Georgie will be wondering--" + +"You say I'm to settle it, the way I want it settled?" + +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 gazed sternly into her frightened eyes. + +"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 or--hate 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 right--you're perfectly horrid! You take everything +for granted--" + +Good Indian laughed at her, a laugh of pure, elemental joy in +life and in love. + +"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 am--the 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. You--oh, I never saw such +a--a 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 the +outrage. + +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 to play a five-dollar gold piece he had in his hand and +quit. + +"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 +me--they'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 conchos--you 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 pocket for a match. + +"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 straight--I did once, and I never got over it, I guess. I +was going to pinch down to ten--but I didn't; I let her ride. +And SHOT CRAPS!" + +He drew the match along the stamped saddle-skirt behind the +cantle, because that gave him a chance to steal a look behind him +without being caught in the act. Good, wide hat-brims 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 it--yet. 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. + +"What did you do then?" asked Gene. + +"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 craps--sixes, that time--sent 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 craps--say, 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 have its place in the +problem of his life. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +"THEM DAMN SNAKE" + +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 fly-book, +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 fishing-coat, 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 attention, and +stayed him for a few minutes to watch. + +Loosely disreputable looked Lawyer Baumberger, from the snagged +hole in his hat-crown where a wisp of graying hair fluttered +through, to the toes of his ungainly, rubber-clad 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 pool. + +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 half-snarl, half-involuntary contraction of +muscles sympathetically tense. + +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 life--had +Good Indian--and had found joy in the sport. And here was he +inwardly condemning a sportsman who stood self-revealed, +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 felt it nevertheless. + +"Brute!" he muttered aloud, his face eloquent of cold disgust. + +At that moment Baumberger drew the tired fish gently into the +shallows, swung him deftly upon the rocks, and laid hold of him +greedily. + +"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 larger one of the little scales +he carried inside his basket. + +"Pound and four ounces," he announced, and slid the fish into his +basket. He was the ordinary, good-natured, gross Baumberger now. +Ho reached for his pipe, placed it in his mouth, and held out a +hand to Good Indian for a match. + +"Say, young fella, have you got any stand-in with your noble red +brothers?" he asked, after he had sucked life into the charred +tobacco. + +"Cousins twice or three times removed, you mean," said Good +Indian coldly, too proud and too lately repelled to meet the man +on friendly ground. "Why do you ask?" + +Baumberger eyed him speculatively while he smoked, and chuckled +to himself. + +"One of 'em--never mind placing him on his own p'ticular limb of +the family tree--has 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 +that--thought maybe he was hunting or going fishing--but he's +been sneakin' around behind me ever since. I don't reckon he's +after my scalp--not enough hair to pay--but I'd like to know what +the dickens he does mean." + +"Nothing probably," Good Indian told him shortly, his eyes +nevertheless searching the rocks for a sight of the watcher. + +"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 sun-ridden 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 head--looked to me like +the surly buck that blew in to the ranch the night I came; Jim +something-or-other. By the great immortal Jehosaphat!" he swore +humorously, "I'd like to tie him up in his dirty blanket and +heave him into the river--only it would kill all the fish in the +Malad." + +Good Indian laughed. + +"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 one there." + +"I'll go up and take a look," Good Indian offered carelessly. + +"Well, I wish you would. I can't keep my mind on m' +fishing--just 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 remembered to ask as he prepared +for another cast into the pool. + +"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 on down." + +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 think. + +He climbed negligently, scattering loose rocks down the hill +behind him. He had no expectation of coming upon +Peppajee--unless Peppajee deliberately put himself in his +way--and so there was no need of caution. He stopped once, and +stood long minutes with his head turned to catch the faint sound +of high-keyed laughter and talk which drifted up to him. If he +went higher, he thought, he might get a glimpse of them--of her, +to tell his thought honestly. Whereupon he forgot all about +finding and expostulating with Peppajee, and thought only a point +of the ridge which would give him a clear view downstream. + +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, looking for a +betraying bit of color or dirty gray hat-crown. + +"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 depended upon reaching as soon as possible the broader +sweep of the Snake. + +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 hat-brim down over his right +eye and ear to shield them from the burn of the sun, and went +picking his way idly over to the place. + +"HUL-lo!" he greeted, in the manner of one who refuses to +acknowledge the seriousness of a situation which confronts him +suddenly. "What's the excitement?" + +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 hunting-knife 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 it--for 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 +ankle-bone, and from there drip-dropped 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. + +"Want me to suck it?" ventured Good Indian unenthusiastically, +eying the wound. + +"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 wound--a +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 hiding-place 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 considers +that he has been hardly used. + +"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 heap +walk," he stated simply. + +"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 fish--no +more." He waved his hand toward the Malad. "Baumberger +bueno--catchum fish--no more." + +Peppajee got slowly and painfully upon his feet--rather, upon one +foot. When Good Indian held out a steadying arm, he accepted it, +and leaned rather heavily. + +"Yo' eyes sick," said Peppajee, and grinned sardonically. "Yo' +eyes see all time Squaw-with-sun-hair. Fillum yo' eyes, yo' see +notting. Yo' catchum squaw, bimeby mebbyso see plenty mo'. Me +no catchum sick eye. Mebbyso me see heap plenty." + +"What you see, you all time watchum Baumberger?" + +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 swayed languidly +the smaller branches of the nearby trees. + +Only Donny was there, sitting disgruntled upon the most +comfortable rock he could find, sulking because the others had +taken all the fishing-tackle that was of any account, and had +left him to make shift with one bent, dulled hook, a lump of fat +pork, and a dozen feet of line. + +"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 snag lines and lose leaders and hooks, and giggle alla +squeal. Aw--DARN girls!" + +"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 snake-bite. I'll be back before you get ready +to go home." + +"I'm ready to go home right now," growled Donny, sinking his chin +between his two palms. "But I guess the walkin' ain't all taken +up." + +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 well-defined 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 +Huckleberry, and so got Peppajee mounted and headed toward camp. + +"You tell Jack I borrowed his saddle and Huckleberry," he called +out to the drooping little figure on the rock. "But I'll get +back before they want to go home." + +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 +misunderstanding and fruitless speculation upon the part of +Evadna. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +CLOUD-SIGN VERSUS CUPID + +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 sensation-seekers 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 placer-pits, 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, he spoke. + +"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 snake-bitten foot. "Snake +bite, make all time much hurt." His eyes turned, and dwelt +sharply upon the face of Good Indian. + +"Yo' all time thinkum Squaw-with-sun-hair. 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 same rattlesnake sleepum +in sun. Kay bueno." + +Good Indian jerked his mind back from delicious recollection of +one sweet, swift-passing minute, and half opened his lips for +reply. But he did not speak; he did not know what to say, and it +is ill-spent time--that 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 away to the west. + +"Las' night, sun go sleepum. Clouds come all same blanket, sun +wrappum in blanket. Cloud look heap mad--mebbyso make much +storm. Bimeby much mens come in cloud, stand so--and so--and +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 head slowly, his leathery face set in deep, +somber lines. + +"Much trouble come heap quick," he said gravely, hitching his +blanket into place upon his shoulder. "Me no sabe--all same, +heap trouble come. Much mens, mebbyso much fight, much +shootum--mebbyso kill. Peaceful Hart him all time laugh me. All +same, me sabe smoke sign, sabe cloud sign, sabe--Baumberga. Heap +ka-a-ay bueno!" + +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 before he strolled on to the house and to the armchair upon +the porch. + +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 wind-riven cloud meant +to him spirit-sent prophecies not to be ignored. + +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 minutes, or three--perhaps +the time might be stretched to five. + +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 industry--one shining black head bent over a +half-finished, beaded moccasin, another stitching a crude gown of +bright-flowered 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' walk--no thinkum all time squaw. Mebbyso yo' think for +man-snake. Mebbyso yo' watchum," Peppajee said, as he swung +slowly down from Huckleberry's back. + +"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 fresh-cheeked and +bright-eyed 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 thoughts and all his desire. + +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 +green-and-white 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 said. + +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 looked full at her. + +Evadna stared stonily over him to where the water boiled fastest. +He might have been one of the rocks, for all the notice she took +of him. + +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 over to her. + +"Aren't you feeling well?" he asked, with tender proprietorship +in his tone. + +"I'm feeling quite well, thank you," returned Evadna frigidly, +neglecting to look at him. + +"What is the matter, then? Aren't you having a good time?" + +"I'm enjoying myself very much--except 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 edge--this time some distance +from where Evadna sat--and began throwing pebbles at the black +nose of a wave-washed 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 +full-blooded youths strive against one another for supremacy. +They came to the point of making bets, at first extravagant and +then growing more and more genuinely in earnest, for we're +gamblers all, at heart. + +Miss Georgie burned a frying-panful 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 been blind and deaf she would not have appeared more +oblivious. + +Good Indian grew anxious, and then angry. The savage stirred +within him, and counseled immediate and complete mastery of +her--his 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, and the savage in him +laughed and lay down again, knowing himself the master. + +What he did was to throw away the burnt fish, clean the +frying-pan, 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 it exactly as he +would have spoken if Jack, for instance, had upset the sugar. + +He held up the broken-handled 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 did not know that he saw them, though another did. + +He was taken wholly by surprise when Miss Georgie, walking past +him afterward on her way to an enticing pool, nipped his arm for +attention and murmured: + +"You're doing fine--only don't overdo it. She's had just about +all she can stand right now. Give her a chance to forgive +you--and let her think she came out ahead! Good luck!" Whereupon +she finished whatever she pretended to have been doing to her +fishing-tackle, 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 +nothing more than idle amusement. + +"I'd like nothing better than to get that four-pounder on my +line," she added. "It would be the joke of the season--if a +woman caught him." + +"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 more--and 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 rocky place. + +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 Evadna--once +more perched sulkily upon the rock. + +"Head still bad, chicken?" she inquired cheerfully. "Better stay +here in the shade--I 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 the Hart boys. + +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 back to the farther shelter of the ledge. + +"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 want more words? Tell me what it is +that bothers 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 you hadn't cared. You--you let me kiss +you. And--" + +"And after that you--you rode off and left me--and you went away +by yourself, just as if--just 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 clear--which could +scarcely be expected, since he did not quite understand it +himself--he at least succeeded in lifting from her the weight of +doubt and of depression. + +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 quick, anyhow." + +"And thorough," grinned Jack. "I was thinking some of falling in +love with you myself, Vad. Soon as some of the shine wore off, +and you got so you acted like a real person." + +"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 tones. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE CLAIM-JUMPERS + +"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 night--didn'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 blood-shot +eyes, however, rather gave the lie to his statement. "I'm going +to make one more try, 'long about noon, for that big one--girls +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 slightly over the table while he fed. + +"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 dark--and I thought maybe it was Gene's +ghost. That was before the moon came up. Got any more biscuits, +mum?" + +"My trap wasn't sprung behind the chicken-house," said Donny. "I +looked, first thing." + +"Dogs," drawled Baumberger, his enunciation muffled by the food +in his mouth, "always bark. And cats fight on shed-roofs. Next +door to where I board there's a dog that goes on shift as regular +as a policeman. Every night at--" + +"Oh, Aunt Phoebe!" Evadna, crisp and cool in a summery dress of +some light-colored stuff, and looking more than ever like a +Christmas angel set a-flutter 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 and pointed the gun straight at me!" + +"Why, honey, that can't be--you 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 found sanctuary +there. + +"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 speaking. + +"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 go--never saw the hobo yet that wouldn't run from a dog." +He smiled leeringly up at her, and reached for a second helping +of honey. + +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 sympathy for Evadna's fear, and he frowned in a baffled +way. + +"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 thick row of trees--or a garden, or +anything else." + +"He's got a row of stakes running clear across tho patch," Evadna +recalled suddenly. "Just like they do for a new street, or a +railroad, or something. And--" + +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 then Baumberger +glanced casually at Peaceful. + +"Sounds queer--must 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 scared--Sick the dogs on him," he advised the family +collectively, his manner changing to a blustering anxiety that +her fright should be avenged. + +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 coffee-pot and frying-pan and +blankets. And there a line of stakes across the strawberry +patch." + +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 gallantly upon feminine +timidity and the natural, protective instincts of men. + +Peaceful Hart may have heard half of what he said--but 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. + +The runner was Donny, and every freckle stood out distinctly upon +his face. + +"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' to wash gold. Good +Injun--" + +"Oh!" screamed Evadna suddenly. "Don't let him--don'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 Injun knows +one of 'em." + +Peaceful Hart stood indecisively, and stared, one and gripping +the back of his chair. His lips were working so that his beard +bristled about his mouth. + +"They can't do nothing--the ranch belongs to me," he said, his +eyes turning rather helplessly to Baumberger. "I've got my +patent." + +"Jumping our ranch!--for placer claims!" Phoebe stood up, leaning +hard upon the table with both hands. "And we've lived here ever +since Clark was a baby!" + +"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 serious--and if +it is, why--I'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 jumping--our--ranch?" Phoebe's soft +eyes gleamed at him. She was pale, so that her face had a +peculiar, ivory tint. + +"Now, now!" Baumberger put out a puffy hand admonishingly. +"Let's keep cool--that'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 his thumb and finger. + +"You're a lawyer, Mr. Baumberger," Peaceful turned to him, still +helpless in his manner. "What's the best thing to be done?" + +"Don't--get--excited." 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, and--order 'em off. Calmly, calmly! No violence--no +threats--just 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, +after--say twenty-four hours' notice--why, we'll proceed to serve +an injunction." He drew a match along the back of his chair, and +lighted his pipe. + +"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 hot-headed, 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 complicate the case." + +"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 ranch--and you can get them anywhere +in Idaho, almost. And to come right into our garden, in the +right--and stake a placer claim!" Her anger seemed beyond further +utterance. "The idea!" she finished weakly. + +"Well--but 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 evil thing, portending much trouble and +black treachery. + +"That's where people always blunder in a thing like this. A +little cool-headedness goes farther than hard words or lead. +And," he added cheeringly, "it may be a false alarm, remember. +We won't borrow trouble. We'll just make sure of our ground, +first thing we do." + +"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 lightning-scarred 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 claim-jumper 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 jerkily. + +"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 arm, so that the butt of it caressed his +right shoulder-joint. + +"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. + +"You go to the devil," he advised chillingly. + +"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. +They don't want--" + +Jack grinned, and hitched his gun into plainer view. "When we +start in, it won't be STICKS we're sending to His Nibs," he +observed placidly. "We're just waiting for him to ante." + +"This," said Baumberger, a peculiar gleam coming into his +leering, puffy-lidded eyes, and a certain hardness creeping into +his voice, "this is a matter for your father and me to settle. +It's just-a-bide-beyond you youngsters. This is a civil case. +Don't foolishly make it come under the criminal code. But +there!" His voice purred at them again. "You won't. You're all +too clear-headed and sensible." + +"Oh, sure!" Wally gave his characteristic little snort."We're +only just standing around to see how fast the cabbages grow!" + +Baumberger advanced boldly across the dead line. + +"Stanley, put down that gun, and explain your presence here and +your object," he rumbled. "Let's get at this thing right end to. +First, what are you doing here?" + +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 half-closed 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 Evadna--for 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 more than his eyes. + +"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 corner--ap-prox'm'tley--close 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 top--and 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 trouble--but 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 chest--a broad, +muscular chest it was--and let his eyes wander deliberately over +his audience. + +"That there's where _I_ stand," he stated, with arrogant +self-assurance. 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. + +"That's what I aim to do," Stanley told him imperturbably. + +"_I_ proved, over fifteen years ago, that there WASN'T," Peaceful +drawled laconically, and sucked so hard upon his pipe that his +cheeks held deep hollows. + +Stanley grinned at him. "Sorry I can't let it go at that," he +said ironically. "I reckon I'll have to do some washin' myself, +though, before I feel satisfied there ain't." + +"Then you haven't panned out anything yet?" Phoebe caught him up. + +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 injunction--" + +"You can serve and be darned." Stanley's grin returned, wider +than before. + +"As Mr. Hart's legal adviser," Baumberger began, in the tone he +employed in the courtroom--a 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 +twenty-four 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 HEL-ena." +Stanley evidently felt impelled to adapt his vocabulary to +feminine ears, for he glanced at them deprecatingly and as if he +wished them elsewhere. + +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 +half-shut 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 +quietly beside Evadna, his attitude almost that of boredom. + +"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 added half humorously, "as a test case. If he goes, +they'll all go." + +"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 +hunk uh pork is kicking up a lot uh dust, but he ain't GETTING +anywhere!" + +"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, +Grant--but there's something fishy about it." + +"Ex-actly." Good Indian took one long step over the ditch, and +went on steadily. + +Wally, coming again alongside, turned his head, and regarded him +attentively. + +"Injun's on top," he diagnosed sententiously after a minute. +"Looks like he's putting on a good, thick layer uh war-paint, +too." He waited expectantly. "You might hand me the brush when +you're through," he hinted grimly. "I might like to get out +after some scalps myself." + +"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 says--staked 'em out in the night +and stuck up their notices--and 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 contemptuously. + +"I wish dad wasn't so--" began Wally moodily, and let it go at +that. + +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've got to +do it." + +"We can run 'em off--maybe," suggested Jack, his fighting +instincts steadied by the vivid memory of four rifles held by +four men, who looked thoroughly capable of using them. + +"This isn't a case of apple-stealing," Good Indian quelled +sharply, and got his rope from his saddle with the manner of a +man who has definitely made up his mind. + +"What CAN we do, then?" Wally demanded impatiently. + +"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 to-day than if +you killed off the whole bunch." + +He came back in a few minutes with his horse, and found the two +still moodily discussing the thing. He glanced at them casually, +and went about the business of saddling. + +"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. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +SQUAW-TALK-FAR-OFF HEAP SMART + +Good Indian spoke briefly with the good-looking 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 smilingly pointed out to him. + +"Howdy, Peppajee? How you foot?" he asked, when his unaccustomed +eyes discerned the old fellow lying back against the farther +wall. + +"Huh! Him heap sick all time." Having his injury thus brought +afresh to his notice, Peppajee reached down with his hands, and +moved the foot carefully to a new position. + +"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, blankets--stop 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 +men--in court. You sabe~ Ask Great Father to tell those men they +go away, no wash gold on ranch." He waited. + +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 not speak quickly. + +"Las' night--mebbyso 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 +of--a 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. Mebbyso yo' thinkum fight, no sabe how +yo' fight." + +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 Indian--he was also a man. + +"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' no sleepum mo'. All time yo' +watchum." + +"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 ranch. You hear talk, mebbyso you tell +me now." + +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 Squaw-talk-far-off," he commanded. "All time +makum talk--talk--" 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 Man-that- +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 squaw. All time glad for talkum +yo'. Yo' go." + +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 the affair. + +"Much talkum--no can hear. All time them damn' Baumberga shut +door--no 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 foot--no 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 Squaw-talk-far-off. 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 her--or 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 shy-eyed 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 man-mind 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 own. +As for Miss Georgie Howard-- + +"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 horse, was particularly foolish sometimes. + +With that in his mind, he mounted--and turned Keno's head toward +Hartley. The distance was not great--little more than half a +mile--but 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 were not quite certain of his own mind, or of +his welcome. + +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 unapproachableness. + +"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 help. + +"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 red-and-white candy for Peppajee Jim next +time I see him." Miss Georgie laughed--but 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 yesterday +that you had found one!" + +"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. + +So Good Indian told her. + +"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 done--unless you had +kicked old Baumberger into the Snake. He's the god in this +machine. I'd swear to that." + +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 trust implicitly. + +"You're right as far as I'm concerned," he owned, with his queer, +inscrutable smile. "I think you're also right about him. What +makes you think so, anyway?" + +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 he--died, I didn't know enough to go on and be a lawyer +myself, so I took to this." She waved her hand impatiently +toward the telegraph instrument. + +"So it's like this: Eight men can take placer claims--can hold +them, you know--for 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 +choose--or at least get together--those 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 ground, aren't they?" + +"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 might give me something definite to go +on. He couldn't, though." + +"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 person--I don't believe Baumberger can do that all +himself legally. I've got some of daddy's law-books 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. "Think--think HARD, +what's best to do!" + +"The only thing I can think of," he scowled, "is to kill that--" + +"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 rough-on-rats in his dinner, but I intend to refrain from +doing as I'd like, and stick to what's best." + +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 been--they'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 course. All +this country practically can show colors, but pay dirt? No!" + +"Look out," she advised him slowly, "that pay dirt doesn't grow +over night! Sabe?" + +Good Indian's eyes spoke admiration of her shrewdness. + +"I must be getting stupid, not to have thought of that," he said. + +"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 going to use the laws himself, and it's with +the law we've got to fight him." + +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 legible. + +"Betraying professional secrets, but I don't care," she +exclaimed, turning swiftly toward him. "Listen to this: + +"'How's fishing? Landed the big one yet? Ready for fry?"' + +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 yesterday--with fish for Pete, he SAID, and of course +he really did have some--and sent a wire to Shoshone. I found it +on file when I came back. That was perfectly innocent, too. It +was: + +"'Expect to land big one to-night. Plenty of small fry. Smooth +trail.' + +"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! You won't mind waiting here?" + +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 to-day, and he was a bit startled +at what he was finding her to be. + +"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 him--he was sitting in the beribboned +rocker dedicated to friendly callers, and had the rug badly +rumpled with his spurs, which he had forgotten to remove--and +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 of chocolates from going bottom up on the floor. + +"Like candy? Help yourself, if you do," she said, and tucked a +piece into her mouth absent-mindedly before she laid the +leather-bound book open on the table. "Now, we'll see what +information Mr. Copp can give us. He's a high authority--General +Land Office Commissioner, if you please. He's a few years +old--several years old, for that matter--but I don't think he's +out of date; I believe what he says still goes. M-m-m!-'Liens on +Mines'--'Clause Inserted in Patents'--'Affidavits Taken Without +Notice to Opposing'--oh, it must be here--it's GOT to be here!" + +She was running a somewhat sticky forefinger slowly down the +index pages. "It isn't alphabetically arranged, which I consider +sloppy of Mr. Copp. Ah-h! '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 heads over it, +though Miss Georgie read aloud. + +"Oh, it's a letter--but it's a decision, and as such has weight. +U~m! + +"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 respectfully," + +"'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 patent--Baumberger 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 that--IS 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 heavy brackets, wetting the lead +on her tongue for emphasis. + +"'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 together over the sentiment +conveyed therein. + +"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: + +"'I have to state that if eight bona-fide locaters' + +("Whether they're that remains to be proven, Mr. Baumberger!") + +'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 faith--those +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 as they did +so. + +"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 land--and 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 error--oh, as +Jenny Wren says in--in--" + +"'Our Mutual Friend?'" Good Indian suggested unexpectedly. + +"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 it--so 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 laws--and +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 tap-tap of feet on +the platform, and Evadna appeared in the half-open doorway. + +"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 riding-skirt, 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 he made himself sound +apologetic. + +"Oh--about an hour ago, I think," Evadna drawled sweetly--the +sweet tones which always mean trouble, when employed by a woman. + +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 it--when +you go." + +"I'm going now, if you're ready," he told her shortly, and +reached for his hat. + +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. + +"Oh--if you're really going," she drawled, and followed him +outside. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +"DON'T GET EXCITED!" + +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 rocking-chair, 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 resents humiliation more keenly than a +direct injury. + +As to Evadna, her atmosphere was that of conscious and +magnanimous superiority to any feeling so humanly petty as +jealousy--which 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 lunch--dinner, I mean--and she's so upset over those horrible +men planted in the orchard--did 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. Good-by--come down whenever you can, won't +you?" She smiled, and she waved a hand, and she held up her +riding-skirt daintily as she turned away. "You didn't say goodby +to Georgie," she reminded Grant, still making use of the chirpy +tone. "I hope I am not in any way responsible." + +"I don't see how you could be," said Good Indian calmly; and +that, for some reason, seemed to intensify the atmosphere with +which Evadna chose to surround herself. + +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 package--a 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 Hartley and the sagebrush waste surrounding +it. + +"You seem to be in a good deal of a hurry," Good Indian observed. + +"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 sarcasm--which +came rapidly out from behind the veil and grew sharp and +bitter--before 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 pretext whatsoever. + +Baumberger, in his shirt-sleeves and smoking his big pipe, +lounged up from the pasture gate where he had been indolently +rubbing the nose of a buckskin two-year-old 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 match for his answer. + +"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 bridle-reins, and started +for the stable. Baumberger happened to be in the way, and he +backed again, more hastily than before, to avoid being run over. + +"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 that I was so small I +couldn't be seen with the naked eye!" + +"You're so small in my estimation that a molecule would look like +a hay-stack alongside you!" Good Indian lifted the skirt of +Evadna's side-saddle, 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 none--in 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 yellow-haired 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. + +"We-e-ell, 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 +forenoon--maybe I've kinda got the habit." + +"Only you're pouring it on a fire this time." + +"That dangerous, yuh mean?" + +"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 uncouth. + +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 purpose--because +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 himself. + +"What d'yuh mean by me pouring oil on fire!" Baumberger urged +banteringly. "Sounds like the hero talking to the villain in one +of these here save-him-he's-my-sweetheart plays." + +"You go to the devil," said Good Indian shortly. + +"Don't repeat yourself, m' son; it's a sign uh failing powers. +You said that to me this morning, remember? +And--don't--get--excited!" His right arm raised slightly when he +said that, as if he expected a blow for his answer. + +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 t'-day. I gotta WATCH him." + +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 with Evadna--if it was only to continue +their quarrel. + +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 +affairs down in the orchard. + +Evadna, it is true, strolled rather self-consciously 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 much-abused cushion under his head +and his hat tilted over his face, so that he could see +Baumberger's face without the scrutiny attracting notice. + +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 odds--cases for the most part +similar to this claim-jumping business. + +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 leaf-shadows +on the ground. + +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 arm, +and gave it a little, reassuring squeeze. + +"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 consciously--"you didn't think I was going +to--to fall dead in love--" + +"Didn't I?" Phoebe laughed at him openly. "I'd have been more +surprised if you hadn't. Why, my grief! I know enough about +human nature, I hope, to expect--" + +"Churning?" The voice of Baumberger purred down to them. There +he stood bulkily at the top of the steps, good-naturedly +regarding them. "Mr. Hart and I are goin' to take a ride up to +the station--gotta 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 Indian, and passed +him over as being of no consequence. + +"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 all--Oh, all right." He had caught another shake +of the head. + +"We may be gone till supper-time," 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 boys--they'll do as you say." +He leered at her ingratiatingly, shot a keen, questioning look at +Good Indian, and went his lumbering way. + +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 spring-house; 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; I want to talk with +you--if I can without having the whole of Idaho listening." + +"Oh, Grant--I 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 something--well, 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, +too--seems like I'd go all to pieces if I can't do SOMETHING!" +She sighed, and tried to cover the sigh with a laugh--which was +not, however, a great success. "I wish I could be as cool-headed +as Thomas," she said, with a tinge of petulance. "It don't seem +to worry him none!" + +"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 boot-toe thoughtfully upon the bottom step, and +glancing up now and then as a precaution against being overheard. + +"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 there now ? Does anybody +know?" + +"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 +so--CALM!" + +"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 Hart--will 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, and--a 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 H-A-ATE 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 and +inconsiderate and a brute. + +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 anyone else could do so. And the things she +had said! + +But here she was, nevertheless, laughing at him and blushing +adorably because he still held her fast, and making the blood of +him race most unreasonably. + +"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're--well, 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 +unexpectedly--really, 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 up--and, 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 to--to +Hartley." She put her arms around her aunt's neck. "You aren't +angry, are you, Aunt Phoebe?" she coaxed. "You--you know you +said you wanted me to be par-TIC-ularly nice to Grant!" + +"Great grief, child! You needn't choke me to death. Of course +I'm not angry." But Phoebe's eyes did not brighten. + +"You look angry," Evadna pouted, and kissed her placatingly. + +"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 thinking some of the home I'm likely to +lose." + +Evadna drew back, and made a movement to go. + +"Oh, I'm sorry I interrupted you then, Aunt Phoebe. I suppose +you and Grant were busy discussing those men in the orchard--" + +"Don't be silly, child. You aren't interrupting anybody, and +there's no call for you to run off like that. We aren't talking +secrets that I know of." + +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 hand. + +"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 them left strictly alone. The boys +had better keep away, though." + +"Are you going down in the orchard?" Evadna rounded her +unbelievably blue eyes at him. "Then I'm going along." + +"You'll do nothing of the kind, little Miss Muffit," he declared +from the top step. + +"Why not?" + +"I might want to do some swearing." He grinned down at her, and +started off. + +"Now, Grant, don't you do anything rash!" Phoebe called after him +sharply. + +"'Don't--get--excited!'" he retorted, mimicking Baumberger. + +"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 orchard--and to the stable as well, though that +view did not interest her particularly at first. It was pure +accident that made her witness what took place at the gate. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A LITTLE TARGET-PRACTICE + +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 held out +a yellowish envelope. + +"Ketchum Squaw-talk-far-off," he explained gutturally. + +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 telegraph form: + +"Come up as soon as you possibly can. I've something to tell +you." + +That was what she had written. He read it twice before he looked +up. + +"What time you ketchum this?" he asked, tapping the message with +his finger. + +"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. "Ketchum one dolla, mebbyso +pikeway quick. No stoppum," he said virtuously. + +"You see Peaceful in Hartley?" Good Indian asked the question +from an idle impulse; in reality, he was wondering what it was +that Miss Georgie had to tell him. + +"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 day--perhaps 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 started toward the orchard, as he had at first intended. + +"Mebbyso ketchum one dolla, yo'," hinted Charlie, the buck. + +But Good Indian went on without paying any attention to him. At +the road he met Jack and Wally, just returning from the orchard. + +"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 +anything--not even when you cuss 'em. Wally and I got black in +the face trying to make them come alive. Baumberger got back +yet? Wally and I have got a scheme--" + +"He and your dad took the train for Shoshone. Say, does anyone +know what that bunch over in the meadow is up to?" Good Indian +leaned his back against a tree, and eyed the two morosely. + +"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 dirt--they 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 anything." + +"I'm going to break out pretty darned sudden," Jack observed +calmly. "I feel it coming on." He smiled, but there was a look +of steel in his eyes. + +Good Indian glanced at him sharply. + +"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 it--or if I did--" He lifted his shoulders +expressively. + +"So," he went on, after a minute of bitter thinking, "I want you +to keep out of this. You know how your mother would feel--You +don't want to get foolish. You can keep an eye on them--to-night +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, why--I'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 respect--we 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 somewhere." + +"I notice you're packing yours, large as life," Jack pointed out. +"Maybe you're just wearing it for an ornament, though." + +"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 sort--and he knew that, when he did make a +move, he at least ought to know why he did it. + +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 again--and while he was not a man who must have +everything put into words, he had found comfort and a certain +clarity of thought in talking with her. + +"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 read it. + +"I didn't think you'd want to ride through all that dust and heat +again to-day," he called back. "You're better off in the shade." + +"Going to call on 'Squaw-talk-far-off'--AGAIN?" She was still +laughing, with something else beneath the laugh. + +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 +good-by--with a hasty kiss, perhaps, from the saddle--as a lover +should have done. + +He was not used to love-making. For him, it was settled that +they loved each other, and would marry some day--he 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 at ease. + +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 hand to further +shield her face. + +"Oh, the whole place is like a GRAVEYARD," she complained. +"Nobody will talk, or do anything but just wander around! I just +can't STAND it!" Which was not frank of her. + +"It's too hot to do much of anything," he said apologetically. +"We might take a ride, if you don't mind the heat." + +"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 +claim-jumpers. You seem to be in just about the proper frame uh +mind to murder the whole bunch. Fly at it!" + +"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 to-day. 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 a brute. + +"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, saw her there, huddled upon the bed. + +In the spring-house 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 Charlie--and the road to his favor +must be paved with gifts. + +"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 +coffee-pot. And Jack was the mild one of the family. + +By the time he had succeeded in puncturing recklessly the +frying-pan, 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 +breath. + +"Got to do something to pass away the time," Jack grinned, +bringing his front sight once more to bear upon the coffee--pot, +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 frying-pan. And I wouldn't--hurt-- +you--for--anything!" He had just reloaded, so that his bullets +saw him to the end of the sentence. + +Stanley watched his coffee-pot 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 this--and you'll be packing +your blanket on your back and looking for work before snow +flies," was his way of summing up. + +Still, he did not shoot. + +It was like throwing pebbles at the bowlder in the Malad, the day +before. + +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 claim-jumpers +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 out-of-the-way shelves, while Phoebe expostulated in the +immediate background. + +"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 milk-house, 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 that they were on their way to a dance, so eager they +were. + +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 claim-jumping, and to punctuate their remarks with +leaden periods planted neatly and with precision in the immediate +vicinity of one of the four. + +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 +taunting laughter, within range of those rises, and they told +Donny so. + +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 Donny retreated in great indignation to the +house. + +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 returned unexpectedly with the +shotgun and an enthusiasm for real bloodshed. + +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 dusk and +Good Indian's opportune arrival prevented serious trouble. + +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 about Saunders. + +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, according to Pete Hamilton, was sudden death of a +hemorrhage. + +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 gone--because 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 him, anyway, Mr. Imsen." + +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 rim-rock above the ranch, Good Indian had heard the +shooting, though the trees hid from his sight what was taking +place, and he had given over his search for Saunders and made +haste to reach home. + +He might have gone straight down the bluff afoot, through a rift +in the rim-rock where it was possible to climb down into the +fissure and squeeze out through a narrow opening to the +bowlder-piled 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 fellows--which 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 good-night 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 ill-used. He would have been distressed if he could have +known how she cried herself to sleep but, manlike, he would also +have been puzzled. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A SHOT FROM THE RIM-ROCK + +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 chicken-house. 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 chicken-house, probed with his knife-blade +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 gun-sound, and he also saw a puff of blue +smoke rise up on the rim-rock above him. He marked the place +instinctively with his eyes, and went on to the stable, stepping +rather more quickly than was his habit. + +Inside, he sat down upon the oats-box, 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, while they were climbing that bluff. + +Even if one succeeded in reaching the foot of the rim-rock, there +was a forty-foot 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 +enough--if 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 mile-long 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 non-combatant, guiltless of even firing a single shot since +the trouble began? + +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 whole-heartedly +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 unpleasantness in +their immediate past. + +"Where you ketchum?" he asked, coming a bit closer. + +"In the side of the chicken-house." Good Indian's tone was +laconic. + +Wally reached out, and took the bullet from him that he might +juggle it curiously in his own fingers. "I don't think!" he +scouted. + +"There's another one there to match this," Good Indian stated +calmly, "and if I should walk over there after it, I'll gamble +there'd be more." + +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 of the other. + +"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 smile. + +"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 lasted!" + +"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 soon see if +they're all on their little patch of soil. Let's go take a +look." + +They went out guardedly, their eyes upon the rim-rock. 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 stable-door to the corral; and that, +Jack said afterward, didn't take all day. + +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 +thing--yet." + +"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 rim-rock, 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. + +"Ah, go ON!" bawled Wally, his nerves all on edge. + +Jack dug his heel into the dust, blew the ashes from his +cigarette, and went on slowly to the gate, passed through, and +stood well back, out of sight under the trees, to watch. + +Wally snorted disdain of any proceeding so spectacular, but he +was as he was made, and he could not keep his dare-devil 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 knew they had been holding their breath. + +"Well--here 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 realistic--for a dream." His eyes searched involuntarily +the rim-rock 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 to get back at +us." + +"They've picked a dandy place," Good Indian observed. "I think +maybe it would be a good idea to hold that fort ourselves. We +should have thought of that; only I never thought--" + +Phoebe, heavy-eyed 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 again. "And I never done a thing to him!" he declared +virtuously. + +Phoebe set down the coffee-pot with an air of decision. + +"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 thinks--I don't know as ho's got +anything to say about it--it's what _I_ think. I know I'm only a +woman, and you all consider yourselves men, whether you are or +not, and it's beneath your dignity, maybe, to listen to your +mother. + +"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 knot-hole 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 life-and-death +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 on--we'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 row of faces +bent over their plates. + +"Oh, you can laugh--it'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 to-day--laying behind a currant bush and +shooting COFFEE-POTS!--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 times--I 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 gun-fight is kinda +sickening to a person that's seen the real thing. + +"'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's-play-Injun business going on around this +ranch. Why, I'd lead you down there by the ear, every mother's +son of you, and tell that man Stanley to SPANK you!" + +"Mum can whip her weight in wildcats any old time," Wally +announced after a heavy silence, and glared aggressively from one +foolish-looking face to another. + +As was frequently the case, the wave of Phoebe's wrath ebbed +harmlessly away in laughter as the humorous aspect of her tirade +was brought to her attention. + +"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 someone. When your father +gets back, we'll see what's to be done." + +"All right, Mum. We won't look toward the garden to-day," Wally +promised largely, and held out his cup to her to be refilled." +You can keep my gun, if you want to make dead sure." + +"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 +window--at 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 drawn-work, and was drawing intricate little +diagrams of certain patterns with her fork upon the tablecloth. + +She looked up, and gave him a careless greeting, and went back to +discussing certain "wheels" in the corner of an imaginary +lunch-cloth 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 drawings, and glanced at him with her most exaggerated +Christmas-angel look. + +"Don't interrupt, please," she said mincingly. "This is +IMPORTANT. And," she troubled to explain, "I'm really in a +hurry, because I'm going to help Aunt Phoebe make strawberry +jam." + +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 breast-pocket. + +"WE can't raise anybody," Wally told him disgustedly, "and I've +made three round trips myself. I'm going to quit fooling around, +and go to work." + +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 visible means of discovering what the +unknown quantities could possibly be. + +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 rim-rock 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 the trail ahead of him, +sending up a little spurt of fine sand. + +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 rowels, and galloped around +the Point. + +There, for the time being, he was safe. Unless the shooter upon +the rim-rock 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 of the time from the receding wall of rock by huge bowlders +and giant sage. + +Grant knew that he was safe from that quarter, and was wondering +whether he ought to ride up along the top of the bluff before +going to Hartley, as he had intended. + +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 softly: + +"Yo' no shoot--no shoot--me 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 four-inch 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 animal. Yet she did not seem to +be afraid of Good Indian. + +"I sorry I scare yo' horse," she said hesitatingly, speaking +better English than before. "I heap hurry to get here. I speak +with yo'." + +"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 +good-looking young squaw he had seen at the Indian camp. "What's +your name?" he asked, remembering suddenly that he had never +heard it. + +"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 +shootum." + +"I know--I'm going to ride around that way and round him up." +Unconsciously his manner had the arrogance of strength and power +to do as he wished, which belongs to healthy young males. + +"N-o, no-o!" She drew a sharp breath " o' no good there! Dim +shoot yo'. Yo' no go! Ah-h--I 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 prime. + +"I want yo'--" she hesitated; "I want yo'--be heap careful. I +want yo' no ride close by hill. Ride far out!" She made a +sweeping gesture toward the valley. "All time I watch." + +He was staring at her in a puzzled way. She was handsome, after +her wild, half-civilized type, and her anxiety for his welfare +touched him and besought his interest. + +"Indians go far down--" She swept her arm down the narrowing +river valley. "Catch fish. Peppajee stay--no 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 gathered--though 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 aim, and shoot--and she had known that he was +shooting at Good Indian. + +When he asked her the second time what was her errand up +there--whether she was following the man, or had suspected that +he would be there--she shook her head vaguely and took refuge +behind the stolidity of her race. + +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 hunting +him out, in all that rough jumble. + +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 had seen in her eyes. + +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 Hartley and his discussion of late events with +Miss Georgie. + +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 lily-pads within ten +feet of them. It was not so long ago, that evening. The time +that had passed since might be reckoned easily in hours, but to +Good Indian it seemed a month, at the very least. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +EVADNA GOES CALLING + +"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 furtive-eyed individuals answering your description bought +round-trip 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 +stunt--and if the boys have begun to devil them any, the chances +are good that they'd take turns at it, anyway. They'd leave +someone always on the ground, that's a cinch. + +"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 bed--so Pete told me this morning. And most of the +Indians have pulled out--squaws, dogs, papooses, and all--on 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 four-thirty--five. + +"And that's all I can tell you, Mr. Imsen," she finished crisply, +and took up a novel with a significance which not even the +dullest man could have ignored. + +Good Indian stared, flushed hotly, and made for the door. + +"Thank you for the information. I'm afraid this has been a lot +of bother for you," he said stiffly, gave her a ceremonious +little bow, and went his way stiff-necked and frowning. + +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 wide-open door. + +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 pump-house +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 for the grimy +attendant. + +"What a fool--what 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 magazines he could find, +including--especially including--the alleged "funny" ones. + +"You certainly--are--the prize--fool!" 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 +garden-party chapter much as she used to study her multiplication +table when she was ten and hated arithmetic. + +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 bareheaded in the sun to watch the unloading. + +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, sage-covered +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 gayety--which her +mouth somehow failed to meet halfway in mirth--upon 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 tie-rope into +what looked like a knot, and step lightly upon the platform. She +had kept her head down--had Miss Georgie--until 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 rocking-chair. "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 and--oh, 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 house--and even then I couldn't help hearing most of it. + +"And to-day 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 cross--CROSS, 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 now--she just goes around with tears +running down into the flannel around her face till I could SHAKE +her!" Evadna laughed--a self-pitying 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 brand-new sweetheart--" Miss Georgie reproved +quizzically, and reached for the inevitable candy box. + +"A lot of good that does, when he's never there!" flashed Evadna, +unintentionally revealing her real grievance. "He just eats and +goes--and 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 +rather than say; to Miss Georgie, of all people. + +"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 +and picks me up again--" + +"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--" + +"Well, upon my word! Just as if I wanted--" + +"You really ought to help him by being kind and showing a little +sympathy, instead--" + +"It appears that the supply of sympathy--" + +"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 +problem--and carries his life in his hand--" + +"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 once, can he? +Now, let's be sensible, chicken. Grant--" + +"Oh--h!" There was a peculiar, sliding inflection upon that word, +which made Miss Georgie's hand shut into a fist. + +"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--" + +"I know all that." Evadna interrupted without apology. + +"Well, of course, if you DO--then 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 certain sense responsible--" + +"Yes, I know. He thinks he should have been watching somebody or +something instead of--of 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 there was no look of an angel in her face. + +Miss Georgie pressed her lips together tightly for a minute. +When she spoke, she was cheerfully impersonal as to tone and +manner. + +"Chicken, you're a little goose. The man is simply crazy about +you, and harassed to death with this ranch business. Once that's +settled--well, you'll see what sort of a lover he can be!" + +"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 back in the chair and beginning to rock again. + +"It's a nasty, underhand business from start to finish," said +Miss Georgie, ignoring the remark. "It has upset everybody--me +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 with old Baumberger--and if ever there was a +sly old mole of a man, he's one. + +"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, why--he'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 move--but 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 measuring-stick. She began to +suspect that Evadna was, after all, an extremely self-centered +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 a--a '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 white-ribboner, or some other kind +of a good-ribboner." Miss Georgie hated herself for sliding into +sheer flippancy, but she preferred that extreme to the other, and +she could not hold her ground just then at the "happy medium." + +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 for--besides yourself?" +flared Miss Georgie, quite humanly exasperated. "There, +chicken--the heat always turns me snappy," she repented +instantly. "Please pinch me." She held out a beautiful, +tapering forearm, and smiled. + +"I'm the snappy one," said Evadna, but she did not smile as she +began drawing on her gauntlets slowly and deliberately. + +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 section-men 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 worldly-wise to follow the trail past the store, where +someone might rush out and grab him before he could dodge away. +He was a wise little pinto--Huckleberry. + +"And now, I suppose I'll have the pleasure of walking home," +grumbled Evadna, standing upon the platform and gazing, with much +self-pity, after her runaway. + +"It's noon--stay 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 riding-skirt, and went slowly +down the steps. + +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 whatever. + +"Little idiot!" gritted Miss Georgie--and this time she was not +speaking of herself. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +MISS GEORGIE ALSO MAKES A CALL + +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 station door with the furtive air which Miss Georgie always +inwardly resented. + +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 finger-nails--she 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 Saunders was almost pitifully eager to be +agreeable. + +"If it didn't sound cruel, this weather," said Miss Georgie +lightly, still looking at him--or, 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 day." + +"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 had +ugly, discolored teeth into the bargain. + +"I like to lay in the hay," he added lifelessly. "I guess I'll +take my bed up there; that lean-to 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 Shoshone, merely as a hint to +Saunders to take himself away. + +"Ain't been anything for me?" he asked, still lingering. + +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 barrow-load of boxes, she switched off the current abruptly, +and went over to the window to watch him. + +"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 everlasting undoing. It's better than +cipher--for I don't talk in my sleep." + +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 emphasis, and wired her +chief for leave of absence until seven. + +"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, nevertheless, to self-reliant +souls like the Hartley operator. + +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 treasure-trove of flabby meat, and +while he was dangling it over the barrel until the superfluous +brine dripped away, she asked him for a horse. + +"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 and waited for his purchases. + +"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 getting along. +Exciting times down there, from all accounts." + +"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 suppose. I can +saddle better than Saunders." + +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 +safe-keeping, repinned her white sailor hat so that the hot wind +which blew should not take it off her head, and went cheerfully +away to the stable. + +She did not saddle the horse at once. She first searched the +pile of sweet-smelling 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. She went outside, and looked carefully at her +immediate surroundings. + +"There's hardly a root of it anywhere around close," she said to +herself. "Nor around the store, either--nor any place where one +would be apt to go ordinarily." + +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 tossed him the +bag of candy, and stayed upon her horse. + +"Howdy, Peppajee? How your foot? Pretty well, mebbyso?" + +"Mebbyso bueno. Sun come two time, mebbyso walk all same no +snake biteum." Peppajee's eyes gloated over the gift as he laid +it down beside him. + +"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?" + +"No can walk far." Peppajee looked meaningly at his bandages. +"No can watchum." + +"Well, but you could tell somebody else to watch him. I think he +do bad thing to the Harts. You like Harts. You tell somebody to +watch Saunders." + +"Indians pikeway--ketchum fish. Come back, mebbyso tellum +watchum." + +Miss Georgie drew in her breath for further argument, decided +that it was not worth while, and touched up her horse with the +whip. "Good-by," she called back, and saw that Peppajee was +looking after her with his eyes, while his face was turned +impassively to the front. + +"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 you--you 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 gold--or 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 done in a minute. + +And since there were four boys with decided ideas upon the +subject--ideas which harmonized only in the fundamental desire to +harry the interlopers, the thing was not to be done without much +time being wasted in fruitless argument. + +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 ditch, mostly through rocky soil. + +Jack wanted to close all the headgates and just let the water go +where it wanted to--which 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 done--so long +as it was done their way. At least, that is what they said. + +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 biggest--that one under +the milk-house." 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 +sufficiently biting retort. + +So they went to work, each in his own way, agreeing mostly in +untiring industry. That is how Miss Georgie found them +occupied--except 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 milk-house, 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 +milk-house, 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 +discomfort--of her aunt presumably, since she herself was high +and dry. + +"And it won't do a BIT of good. They'll just knock that dam +business all to pieces to-night--" She was scolding Grant. + +"Swearing, chicken? Things must be in a great state!" + +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 you, Grant Imsen!" + +"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 deliberately cheerful +under trying conditions. + +"Don't quarrel, children," she advised lightly. "Howdy, Mrs. +Hart? What are they trying to do--drown 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 +milk, and laughed at her own predicament. + +"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 new ditch. You know I explained +just why--" + +"Oh, yes, I know you explained just WHY," Phoebe cut in +disconsolately and yet humorously, "but explanations don't seem +to help my poor milk-house 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 the lake you're going +to have in the pasture?" + +She looked at Miss Georgie whimsically. "I'm an ungrateful, +bad-tempered 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." + +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 buckets--which 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 them back on their own side of the +line." + +He picked up a floating ribbon-end 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 they, Goldilocks?" + +"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 off--she was wax--and you always remind me of the +horrible expression it gave to her face. I'd go every day and +take her out of the bureau-drawer 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 space at least eight inches wide for +Miss Georgie's accommodation. + +"I can't sit anywhere," said Miss Georgie, looking at her watch. +"By the way, chicken, did you have to walk all the way home?" + +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 +thought." + +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 +finger-tips 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 side--by the ear, if necessary--and 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 rocks--mostly +with packs on their shoulders that don't rightly belong to them." +She sighed impatiently. "It must be lovely to be absolutely +selfish--when you're pretty enough and young enough to make it +stick!" Miss Georgie was, without doubt, in a nasty temper that +night. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +SOMEBODY SHOT SAUNDERS + +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. One--nothing 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. +Two--this exactly like the first, except that those inseparables, +Hagar, Viney, and Lucy, whom Miss Georgie had inelegantly dubbed +"the Three Greases," appeared, silent, blanket-enshrouded, and +perspiring, at the office door in mid-afternoon. Half a box of +soggy chocolates which the heat had rendered a dismally sticky +mass won from them smiles and half-intelligible speech. Fishing +was poor--no ketchum. Three--not even the diversion of the +squaws to make her forget the dragging hours. +Nothing--nothing--nothing, she told herself apathetically when +that third day had slipped upon the black cord of a soft, warm +night, star-sprinkled and unutterably lonely as it brooded over +the desert. + +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 her sleep had reached her door. + +Pete Hamilton's voice, trembling with excitement, called to her. + +"What is it? What has happened?" she cried from within, beset by +a hundred wild conjectures. + +"Saunders--somebody shot Saunders. Wire for a doctor, quick as +yuh can. He ain't dead yet--but 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 answer to the summons. Miss Georgie +made haste to follow him. + +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 +half-closed 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 section-hands, the Chinese cook at the section-house, +and the Swede foreman, and Pete seemed quite at a loss what to +do. + +"Take him in and put him to bed," Miss Georgie commanded, turning +away. "See if he's bleeding yet, and--well, I should put a cold +compress on the wound, I think. I'll send for a doctor--but 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 she waited for an answer. + +"G-r-a-n-" her fingers had spelled when she became conscious of +the fact, flushed hotly, and folded her hands tightly together in +her lap. + +"The doctor will come--Hawkinson, 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. Especially did she search the +loose, sandy soil in its vicinity for tracks. + +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 follow--or 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 smooth-packed +hollow in the sand where he must have lain. + +"He's got nerve--I'll say that much for him," she observed aloud, +and went on. + +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. + +"The--deuce!" 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 woman whom one expects to shed +tears for slight cause. + +"If you did it--and you must have--I 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 disappointment also. + +"Did what--to whom--to 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, Squaw-talk-far-off?" He ducked +and peered into her face again, and again his face sobered. +"What's the matter?" he asked, in an entirely different +tone--which Miss Georgie, in spite of her mood, found less +satisfying than his banter. + +"Saunders--OUCH; I'd as soon be scalped and done with, as to have +you pull out a hair at a time--Saunders crawled home with a +bullet in his ribs. And I thought--" + +"Saunders!" Good Indian stared down at her, his hands dropped +upon her head. + +Miss Georgie reached up, caught him by the wrists, and held him +so while she tilted her head that she might look up at him. + +"Grant!" she cried softly. "He deserved it. You couldn't help +it--he 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 you--or that anyone would if they knew the truth. I came +out to see--I just HAD to make sure--but you must get away from +here. You shouldn't have stayed so long--" Miss Georgie gave a +most unexpected sob, and stopped that she might grit her teeth in +anger over it. + +"You think I shot him." As Good Indian said it, the sentence was +merely a statement, rather than an accusation or a reproach. + +"I don't blame you. I suspected he was the man up here with the +rifle. That day--that first day, when you told me about someone +shooting at you--he came over to the station. And I saw two or +three scraps of sage sticking under his shirt-collar, 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--" + +"You didn't tell me." And this time he spoke reproachfully. + +"It was after you had left that I saw it. And I did go down to +the ranch to tell you. But I--you were so--occupied--in other +directions--" She let go his wrists, and began fumbling at her +hair, and she bowed her head again so that her face was hidden +from him. + +"You could have told me, anyway," Good Indian said constrainedly. + +"You didn't want her to know. I couldn't, before her. And I +didn't want to--hurt her by--" Miss Georgie fumbled more with her +words than with her hair. + +"Well, there's no use arguing about that." Good Indian also +found that subject a difficult one. "You say he was shot. Did +he say--" + +"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 look--I've seen +them in wrecks, and I know. He won't talk; he can't. But +there'll be an investigation--and 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 handle." + +"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 hairs wound up," he grumbled. + +"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, +anyway--witness the way you bawled him out that day you +roped--ow-w!--roped the dog. Baumberger may have wanted him to +keep an eye on you--My Heavens, man! Do you think you're plucking +a goose?" + +"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 you--and 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 still--but I suppose +you can't. + +"By the way," he remarked casually, after a short silence, save +for an occasional squeal from Miss Georgie, "speaking of +Saunders--I didn't shoot him." + +Miss Georgie looked up at him, to the further entanglement of her +hair. "You DIDN'T? Then who did?" + +"Search ME," he offered figuratively and briefly. + +"Well, I will." Miss Georgie spoke with a certain decisiveness, +and reaching out a sage-soiled hand, took his gun from the +holster at his hip. He shrank away with a man's instinctive +dislike of having anyone make free with his weapons, but it was +a single movement, which he controlled instantly. + +"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 witness-box--I 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 rod with you," she added, "which would hardly be +likely." + +"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. "Twenty-four--that +fast freight--is 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." + +"I was under the impression that my name is Grant--to friends." + +"My name is 'Dennis,' if I don't beat that freight," she retorted +curtly. "Take your knife and give me a hair cut--quick! I can do +it a different way, and cover up the place." + +"Oh, all right--but 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, and we've been fooling +when we should have been discussing 'ways and means.'" + +"Well, I got up early, and someone took a shot at me again. This +time he clipped my hat-brim." 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 sight--we'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 down--oh, 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 want to get hung up somewhere again." + +She stood up straight, with a long, deep sigh of relief. + +"Now, pikeway," he smiled. "And don't run bareheaded through the +bushes again. You've still got time to beat that train. +And--about Saunders-- don't worry. I can get to the ranch +without being seen, and no one will know I was up here, unless +you tell them." + +"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 me--and leave tracks all over the country. Keep on the +lava rock. Haven't you got any sense at all?" + +"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. Really, you +must!" her eyes implored him. + +"Oh, vey-ree well. We haven't met this morning. Good-by, +Squaw-talk-far-off. 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, sage-covered hill to the west. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +A BIT OF PAPER + +Good Indian came out upon the rim-rock, 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 back +from the rim of the bluff. + +"You no shout," she murmured gravely. "No lettum see you here. +You go quick. Ketchum you cayuse, go to ranch. You no tellum +you be this place." + +Good Indian stood still, and looked at her. She stood with her +arms folded in her blanket, regarding him with a certain yearning +steadfastness. + +"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--" + +Good Indian reached out, and caught her by both shoulders. + +"Rachel--if you did that, don't tell me about it. Don't tell me +anything. I don't ask you--I 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 begin to tremble under his +fingers, and he stopped as suddenly as he had begun. + +"You no glad? You think shame for me? You think I--all +time--very--bad!" Tragedy was in her voice, and in her great, +dark eyes. Good Indian gulped. + +"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 anything +about it, why--I wouldn't know anything about it. You sabe." + +"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 kill-dead. All +time Man-that-coughs 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 +soft-footedly 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 look, and went on, and turned no more toward her +until he reached his horse. + +"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. Good--by." He mounted, and rode away. +He felt, just then, that it was the kindest thing he could do. + +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. He swung his heels against Keno's flanks, and rode home. + +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 worrying him. + + + +"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 water-tank. "Saunders died a +few minutes ago. Pete says you better notify the coroner--and I +reckon the sheriff, too. Pretty tough to be shot down like that +in broad daylight." + +"I think I'd rather be shot in daylight than in the dark," Miss +Georgie snapped unreasonably because her nerves were all +a-jangle, and sent the messages as requested. + +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 which attends death +in any form. + +A dozen Indians hung about the store, the squaws peering +inquisitively in at the uncurtained window of the lean-to--where +the bed held a long immovable burden with a rumpled sheet over +it--and the bucks listening stolidly to the futile gossip on the +store porch. + +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 +on--and though Pete did not say that Saunders chose to die when +the stock of paper novels was exhausted, he left that impression +upon his auditors. + +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 wards. + +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 stable-door, in a due line +southeast from the hay-corral, 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 without further fussing over evidence, at the +verdict of suicide. + +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 Saunders' passing, +so far as the law was concerned. + +"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 +way--for he certainly must have known enough to put Baumberger +behind the bars. + +"But I don't see," she said, in a puzzled way, "how that gun came +onto the scene. I looked all around the stable this morning, and +I could swear there wasn't any gun." + +"Well, he did pick it up--fortunately," Good Indian returned +grimly. "I'm glad the thing was settled so easily." + +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 four-thirty-five is +due pretty soon--and I have oodles of work." + +He looked at her strangely, and went away, wondering why Miss +Georgie hated so to have him in the office lately. + +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, and ready to do +her a good turn because of her interest. + +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 bright-eyed 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 shot himself?" + +Peppajee took his little stone pipe from his lips, blew a thin +wreath of smoke, and replaced the stem between his teeth, stared +stolidly straight ahead of him, and said nothing. + +"All the white men say that," Good Indian persisted, after he had +waited a minute. Peppajee did not seem to hear. + +"Sheriff say that, too. Sheriff found the gun." + +"Mebbyso sheriff mans heap damfool. Mebbyso heap smart. No +sabe." + +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 the wikiup frame. + +"Yo' no speakum Rachel no more," he said gravely. "Yo' ketchum +'Vadnah; no ketchum otha squaw. Bad medicine come. Heap much +troubles come. Me no likeum. My heart heap bad." + +"I'm Rachel's friend, Peppajee." Good Indian spoke softly so +that others might not hear. "I sabe what Rachel do. Rachel good +girl. I don't want to bring trouble. I want to help." + +Peppajee snorted. + +"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 speakum +Rachel no more, yo' be friend. + +Yo' speakum, me like to kill yo', mebbyso." He spoke calmly, but +none the less his words carried conviction of his sincerity. + +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 eyes. + +"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 trouble." He stopped and +listened, but there was no sound within. + +Peppajee eyed him comprehendingly, but there was no yielding in +his brown, wrinkled face. + +"Yo' Rachel's frien', yo' pikeway," he insisted doggedly. + +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 Indian closed his hand upon it, and stood up. + +"All right, I go," he said calmly to Peppajee, and mounted. + +Peppajee looked at him stolidly, and said nothing. + +"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 you no help?" + +Peppajee's mouth straightened in a grin of pure irony. + +"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 go. Me no care." + +"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 unfolded it carefully and looked +at it long. + +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 +wrapping--paper. It said simply: + +"God by i lov yo." + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE MALICE OF A SQUAW + +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 by the corner of the house, and listened shamelessly. + +"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 mischief-making old hag, and she--oh, I'd like to +beat her!" + +Hagar shook her head violently, and her voice rose shrill and +malicious, cutting short Evadna's futile defiance. + +"Ka-a-ay bueno, yo'!" Her teeth gnashed together upon the words. +"I no tellum lie. Good Injun him kill Man-that-coughs. 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 +Man-that-coughs. I tellum--" + +"Why didn't you, then, when the sheriff was in Hartley?" Evadna +flung at her angrily. "Because you know it's a lie. That's +why." + +"Yo' thinkum Good Injun love yo', mebbyso." Hagar's witch-grin +was at its malevolent widest. Her black eyes sparkled with +venom. "Yo' heap fool. Good Injun go all time +Squaw-talk-far-off. Speakum glad word. Good Injun ka-a-ay +bueno. Love Squaw-talk-far-off. 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 +doorway. + +"Don't you listen to her, honey." It was Phoebe's turn to +reassure. + +Good Indian took a step forward, his face white with rage. Viney +saw him first, muttered an Indian word of warning, and the three +sprang up and backed away from his approach. + +"So you've got to call me a murderer!" he cried, advancing +threateningly upon Hagar. "And even that doesn't satisfy you. +You--" + +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 us--what 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 of his face frightened her. + +Old Hagar spat viciously at them both, and shrilled vituperative +sentences--in 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 dialect of her tribe. + +"Yo' tellum me shont-isham. Mebbyso yo' tellum yo' no ketchum +Squaw-talk-far-off in sagebrush, all time Saunders go dead! Me +ketchum hair--Squaw-talk-far-off 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 +hair--the hair of Miss Georgie, without a doubt. There was no +gainsaying that color and texture. She looked full at Evadna. + +"Yo' like see, me show whereum walk," she said grimly. "Good +Injun boot make track, Squaw-talk-far-off little shoe make track. +Me show, yo' thinkum mebbyso me tell lie. Stoppum in sagebrush, +ketchum hair. Me ketchum knife--Good Injun knife, mebbyso." +Revenge mastered cupidity, and she produced that also, and held +it up where they could all see. + +Evadna looked and winced. + +"I don't believe a word you say," she declared stubbornly. "You +STOLE that knife. I suppose you also stole the hair. You can't +MAKE me believe a thing like that!" + +"Squaw-talk-far-off 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 in that one particular. + +"Squaw-talk-far-off sabe Good Injun killum Man-that-coughs, +mebbyso," she hazarded, watching Good Indian's face cunningly to +see if the guess struck close to the truth. + +"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 you--because you're such a devil I +couldn't stop short of killing you, once I laid my hands on 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. + +"Pikeway!" he commanded. + +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 then--did Hagar--and waddled +after the others, her whole body seeming to radiate contentment +with the evil she had wrought. + +"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 story--not 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 Indians--squaws 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 murder you. It's in her to do it, if she +ever got the chance." + +"What do you suppose made her ring Georgie Howard in like that?" +Phoebe speculated, looking at Grant. "She must have some grudge +against her, too." + +"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 they show up at the station." + +"Oh--h!" Evadna gave the word that peculiar, sliding inflection +of hers which meant so much, and regarded him unwinkingly, with +her hands clasped behind her. + +Good Indian knew well the meaning of both her tone and her stare, +but he only laughed and caught her by the arm. + +"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, Goldilocks--we haven't had a +real satisfying sort of scrap for several thousand years." + +She permitted him to lead her to the hammock, and pile three +cushions behind her head and shoulders--with the dark-blue one on +top because her hair looked well against it--and dispose himself +comfortably where he could look his fill at her while he swung +the hammock gently with his boot-heel, 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 finger-tip in turn, she was as passive +as a doll under the caresses of a child. + +"What's the matter?" he demanded, when he found that her manner +did not soften. "Worrying still about what that old squaw said?" + +"Not in the slightest." Evadna's tone was perfectly +polite--which was a bad sign. + +Good Indian thought he saw the makings of a quarrel in her +general attitude, and he thought he might as well get at once to +the real root of her resentment. + +"What are you thinking about? Tell me, Goldilocks," he coaxed, +pushing his own troubles to the back of his mind. + +"Oh, nothing. I was just wondering--though it's a trivial matter +which is hardly worth mentioning--but I just happened to wonder +how you came to know that Georgie Howard is in the habit of +giving candy to the squaws--or 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 +else--something which he felt he must keep to himself even in the +face of her anger. But this--he laughed again. + +"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 me--I +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 law--used 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 +doing about it. That's what's keeping him, of course. + +"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 have mo believe you could possibly be jealous!" + +"No," said Evadna, in a more amiable tone. "Of course I'm not. +But I do think you showed a--well, 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 instance--why 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 know. And you see--" + +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 she had started out to say. + +"You see, that gave old Hagar a chance to accuse you of--well, 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! And--Grant, where +DID she get hold of that knife, do you suppose--and--that--bunch +of--hair?" 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 it certainly +WAS Georgie's hair." + +"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, but seeing it wasn't YOUR +hair--" + +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, +Squaw-with-sun-hair," 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 shows that the hour +had not been spent in quarreling, at all events. + +"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." + +"You don't realize how hot it is," he discouraged. + +"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 squaw--the one that caught +Huckleberry the other day, you know--would 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 you were, and looked so--" + +"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, all right, when the old man's gone. We'll go +up this evening, if you like." + +Evadna eyed him with open suspicion, but if she could read his +real meaning from anything in his face or his eyes or his manner, +she must have been a very keen observer indeed. + +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 difference if Miss +Georgie did not hear of it immediately. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +PEACEFUL RETURNS + +That afternoon when the four-thirty-five 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 discomfort of that +searing sunlight. + +"Howdy, Miss Georgie?" he wheezed, as he passed the window. +"Ever see such hot weather in your life? _I_ never did." + +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 loose-lipped 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 for the present. + +"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 Hamilton was resting after the excitement +of the past thirty-six hours. + +"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, white-bearded old man thought her a meddlesome fool. + +"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 drawled, and waited placidly for her +to speak. + +"You just about swear by old Baumberger, don't you?" she began +presently, fiddling with her lead pencil and going straight to +the heart of what she wanted to say. + +"Well, I dunno. I've kinda learned to fight shy of swearing by +anybody, Miss Georgie." His mild blue eyes settled attentively +upon her flushed face. + +"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 placer-claim 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 technically within their rights in +making lawful improvements on their claims. + +"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, I +suppose. I know the whole eight have been up--" + +"Yes, they've all filed--twenty acres apiece--the 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 discouragement in +his voice which it hurt Miss Georgie to hear. + +"Well, they've got to prove that those claims of theirs are +lawful, you know. And if you've got your patent for the +homestead--you have got a patent, haven't you?" Something in his +face made her fling in the question. + +"Y-es--or I thought I had one," he answered dryly. "It seems now +there's a flaw in it, and it's got to go back to Washington and +be rectified. It ain't legal till that's been done." + +Miss Georgie half rose from her chair, and dropped back +despairingly. "Who found that mistake?" she demanded. +"Baumberger?" + +"Y-es, 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 course. Baumberger was real +put out about it." + +"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 death." She turned and faced Peaceful anxiously. + +"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 reason--perhaps because Grant has shown his hostility from +the first. Did you know Saunders--or someone--has been shooting +at Grant from the top of the bluff for--well, ever since you +left? The last shot clipped his hat-brim. Then Saunders was +shot--or shot himself, according to the inquest--and there has +been no more rifle practice with Grant for the target." + +"N-no, 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 case--Black. 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 does--but I don't. Not by a long +shot. Black'll ferret out any crooked work." + +"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 I--well, I +struck up a mild sort of flirtation with the operator at +Shoshone." She smiled deprecatingly at Peaceful. + +"I wanted to find out--and 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 news-agent and cigar man--you know that kind of +joint, where they sell paper novels and magazines and tobacco and +such--getting 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 that--but 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." + +Miss Georgie laughed ruefully, and patted her pompadour +absent-mindedly. + +"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 easy-tempered!" She +went and looked out of the window again uneasily. + +"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 +longer--he's looking this way pretty often, I notice; nothing but +the beer-keg holds him, I imagine. And when he empties that--" +She shrugged her shoulders, and sat down facing Hart. + +"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 ranch--but 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 catch him napping, Mr. +Hart." + +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 taking such an interest--and I'll tell +Black about Jim Wakely." + +"Don't build any hopes on Jim," she warned. "He probably doesn't +know anything except that he sent and received messages he +couldn't read any sense into." + +"Well--there'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, old-fashioned +bow, and went over to join Baumberger--and to ask Pete Hamilton +for the use of his team and buckboard. + +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 office door, because she felt that she was being watched. + +"How, Hagar, and Viney, and Lucy," she greeted languidly when she +saw the three squaws sidle closer, and reached for a bag of candy +for them. + +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 +time it was not empty. + +"Ketchum sagebrush," she announced laconically. "Mebbyso yo' +like for buy?" + +Miss Georgie stared fixedly at the hand, and said nothing. Hagar +drew it under her blanket, held it fumbling there, and thrust it +forth again. + +"Ketchum where ketchum hair," she said, and her wicked old eyes +twinkled with malice. "Mebbyso yo' like for buy?" + +Miss Georgie still stared, and said nothing. Her under lip was +caught tightly between her teeth by now, and her eyebrows were +pulled close together. + +"Ketchum much track, same place," said Hagar grimly. "Good Injun +makeum track all same boot. Seeum Good Injun creep, creep in +bushes, all time Man-that-coughs 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 tell, mebbyso." + +Miss Georgie felt blindly for her chair, and when she touched it +she backed and sank into it rather heavily. She looked white and +sick, and Hagar eyed her gloatingly. + +"Yo' no like for Good Injun be killum rope," she chuckled. "Yo' +all time thinkum heap bueno. Mebbyso yo' love. Yo' buy? Yo' +payum much dolla?" + +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 +bright-red 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. "You no be sad. No +trouble come Good Injun. I friend." + +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 her chin at Miss Georgie. + +"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 Man-that-coughs." +Turning, she waddled out, jabbing viciously at the young squaw +with her elbow as she passed, and spitting out some sort of +threat or command--Miss Georgie could not tell which. + +The young squaw lingered, still gazing shyly at Miss Georgie. + +"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 half-moons 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 "Ah-h-CHUCK! ah-h-CHUCK!" of the steam pump down the +track, and to the spasmodic clicking of an order from the +dispatcher to the passenger train two stations to the west. + +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 the office. + +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 saddle-horse; 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. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +"I'D JUST AS SOON HANG FOR NINE MEN AS FOR ONE" + +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 toward him. + +"I said HULLO. Nothin' wrong in that, is there? HULLO--d'yuh +hear?" + +"Go to the devil!" said Grant shortly. + +Baumberger leered at him offensively. "Pretty Polly! Never +learned but one set uh words in his life. Can't yuh say anything +but 'Go to the devil!' when a man speaks to yuh? Hey?" + +"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 point if I were you." + +"Giving me advice, hey? And who the devil are you?" + +"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 the side of a barn if he'd been locked +inside it. You ought to have made sure--" + +Baumberger glared at him, and then lunged, his eyes like an +animal gone mad. + +"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 Injun--and if +he couldn't, I can! Yuh WILL watch me, hey?" + +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. Heat-mad and drink-mad +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 one of his catlike motions, pulled a +gun, and fired without really taking aim. + +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 boys--Wally 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. Peaceful stood beside the team, with +the lines still in his hand. + +It was Miss Georgie's words which reached him clearly. + +"You just HAD to do it, Grant. I saw the whole thing. You HAD +to." + +"Oh, Grant--GRANT! What have you done? What have you done?" +That was Phoebe Hart, saying the same thing over and over with a +queer, moaning inflection in her voice. + +"D'yuh KILL him?" Gene shouted excitedly, as he ran up to the +spot. + +"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 the road in the direction of the garden. + +"He's mad! The boy is mad! He's going to kill--" Phoebe gave a +sob, and ran after him, and with her went Miss Georgie and +Evadna, white-faced, all three of them. + +"Come on, boys--he's going to clean out the whole bunch!" whooped +Gene. + +"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 lightning-stricken +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 unobtrusively ready for whatever might be going to happen. + +Good Indian appraised the situation with a quick glance as he +came up, but he did not slacken his pace until he was within ten +feet of Stanley. + +"You're across the dead line, m' son," said Stanley, with lazy +significance. "And you, too," he added, flickering a glance at +Miss Georgie. + +"The dead line," said Good Indian coolly, "is beyond the Point o' +Rocks. I'd like to see you on the other side by sundown." + +Stanley looked him over, from the crown of his gray hat to the +tips of his riding-boots, and laughed when his eyes came back to +Good Indian's face. But the laugh died out rather suddenly at +what he saw there. + +"Got the papers for that?" he asked calmly. But his jaw had +squared. + +"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 face--and Stanley's right hand, too, perhaps. "If you +don't want the same medicine, I'd advise you to quit." + +Stanley's jaw dropped, but it was surprise which slackened the +muscles. + +"You--shot--" + +"Baumberger. I said it." + +"You'll hang for that," Stanley stated impersonally, without +moving. + +Good Indian smiled, but it only made his face more ominous. + +"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 soon," he added +composedly, "be hanged for nine men as for one." + +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 gun-butts. Old Peaceful half-raised his +rifle, and held it so. It was like being compelled to watch a +fuse hiss and shrivel and go black toward a keg of gun-powder. + +"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 +personal resentment in tone or manner, and raked the match along +his thigh. + +Good Indian's shoulders went up a little. + +"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 friends--and NO ONE ELSE. Tell that to your +pals, unless you've got a grudge against them!" + +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 business proposition. + +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 sight of something she was carrying in her hand, and he +gave a short laugh. + +"What are you doing with that thing?" he asked peremptorily. + +Miss Georgie blushed very red, and slid the thing into her +pocket. + +"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 Stanley--when you turned your back on +him." + +Good Indian stopped, looked at her queerly, and went on again +without saying a word. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +"WHEN THE SUN GOES AWAY" + +"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 seeing such things happen--" + +"Where is she?" Good Indian asked tersely, and was answered +immediately by the sound of sobbing on the east porch. The three +went together, but it was Grant who reached her first. + +"Don't cry, Goldilocks," he said tenderly, bending over her. +"It's all right now. There isn't going to be any more--" + +"Oh! Don't TOUCH me!" She sprang up and backed from him, horror +plain in her wide eyes. "Make him keep away, Aunt Phoebe!" + +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 woman--I'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." + +"He--KILLED 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 mark--where he grazed my +arm! And he LAUGHED about it! I called him a savage then--and I +was RIGHT--only he can be so nice when he wants to be--and I +forgot about the Indian in him--and 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 indignantly. + +"'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 +image--didn't you ever see a case of nerves before? She doesn't +know what she's saying--if she did, she wouldn't be saying it. +You go on, and let me handle her alone. Men are just a nuisance +in a case like this." + +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 must not take Evadna +seriously, because she did not. + +"We'd better take her to her room, Mrs. Hart," she suggested, +"and make her lie down for a while. That poor fellow--as if he +didn't have enough on his hands without this!" + +"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! I--" + +"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 and a coward if he +hadn't. You come and lie down a while." + +"I WON'T lie down. I don't care if he did have to do it--I +couldn't love him afterward. And he didn't have to go down there +and threaten Stanley--and--HE'LL DO IT, TOO!" She fell to +trembling again. "He'll DO it--at sundown." + +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 me--Oh, what does he +think I AM?" She leaned against the wall, and sobbed. + +"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 was up there killing +Saunders--" + +"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 had been a +ten-year-old child in a tantrum. + +"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 and--STAY there. Do you hear? And don't you +dare let another yip out of you till you can talk sense." + +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 room--it sounded almost as if she dragged her there by +force--and 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 been itching for +something like this ever since the trouble started. + +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 +something--something that would hurt him more than he had been +hurt since his father died in that same house. But in the +meantime he need only think. + +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 lily-pad 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. + +Phoebe came out from the sitting-room, ran down the steps, and +barred his way. + +"Grant!" she said, and there were tears in her eyes, "don't do +anything rash--don't. If it's for our sakes--and I know it +is--don'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 war-talk." He hesitated, bent his head, and +kissed her on the forehead as she stood looking up at him, and +went on. + +"Grant--GRANT!" she cried heartbrokenly after him, and sank down +on the porch-steps with her face hidden in her arms. + +Miss Georgie was standing beside the gate, looking toward the +stable. She may not have been waiting for him, but she turned +without any show of surprise when he walked up behind her. + +"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 dead-line by sundown. There goes Stanley +now. Do you really feel that your future happiness depends on +getting through this gate? Well--if you must--" She swung it +open, but she stood in the opening. + +"Grant, I--it's hard to say just what I want to say--but--you did +right. You acted the man's part. No matter what--others--may +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, to--to +help--you'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 fight--and +there did seem to be the makings of a beautiful row!" + +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 could not have told that Miss Georgie +remembered anything tragic. + +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 bay. "It just occurred +to me that there must have been." + +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 them--the old +blackmailer! She made threats, Grant--about Saunders. She says +you--I 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. What shall I tell her? +We can't have that story mouthed all over the country." + +Good Indian twisted a wisp of mane in his fingers, and frowned +abstractedly. + +"If you'll ride on slowly," he told her, at last straightening +the twisted lock, "I'll overtake you. I think I'd better see +that old Jezebel myself." + +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 he were thinking deeply. +Perhaps he was glad to be let off so easily. + +"Abandoning my claim," he announced, lightly as a man of his +prosaic temperament could speak upon such a subject. "Dern poor +placer mining down there, if yuh want to know!" + +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 beside him. And the woman understood, +and was glad that she was there. + +From the Indian camp, back in the sage-inclosed hollow, rose a +sound of high-keyed wailing. The two heard it, and looked at +each other questioningly. + +"Something's up over there," Good Indian said, answering her +look. "That sounds to me like the squaws howling over a death." + +"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 into the camp. + +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 +him instead. + +"What's the matter here, Peppajee?" he asked. "Heap trouble walk +down at Hart Ranch. Trouble walk here all same, mebbyso?" + +Peppajee looked at him sourly, but the news was big, and it must +be told. + +"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 eatum--all time heap sad. +Ketchum bad spirit, mebbyso. Ketchum debbil. Sun go 'way, +ketchum knife, go Hagar wikiup. Killum Hagar--so." He thrust +out his arm as one who stabs. "Killum himself--so." He struck +his chest with his clenched fist. "Hagar heap dead. Rachel heap +dead. Kay bueno. Mebbyso yo' heap bad medicine. Yo' go." + +"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. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +LIFE ADJUSTS ITSELF AGAIN TO SOME THINGS + +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 +rim-rock 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 tried--with the +aid of various plugs of tobacco and much expectoration--the case +and rendered a unanimous verdict upon it long before the coroner +arrived. "Done just right," was the verdict of Public Opinion, +and the self-constituted 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 courage to +defend himself and those dear to him from a great danger. + +With everything so agreeably disposed of according to the +crude--though none the less true, perhaps--ethics 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 official approval. + +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 the rough box was lowered to the station platform. + +As the sky clears and grows blue and deep and unfathomably +peaceful after a storm, as trees wind-riven straighten and nod +graciously to the little cloud-boats that sail the blue above, +and wave dainty finger-tips 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 train--which bore the coroner +and that other quiet passenger--came faintly down over the +rim-rock, settle with a sigh of relief into its old, easy habits +of life. + +All, that is, save Good Indian himself, and perhaps one other. + + . . . . . . . . . + +Peaceful cleared his white mustache and beard from a few stray +drops of coffee and let his mild blue eyes travel slowly around +the table, from one tanned young face to another. + +"Now the excitement's all over and done with," he drawled in his +half-apologetic 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 spoiled already; but the small fruit can be +saved." + +"Clark and I was going up to the Injun camp," spoke up Gene. "We +wanted to see--" + +"You'll have to do some riding to get there," Good Indian +informed them dryly. "They hit the trail before sunrise this +morning." + +"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 milk-house now, +Mother Hart," he promised lightly, "so you won't have to wear +rubber-boots 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 +long-handled shovel is?" Again he eyed Evadna without seeming to +see her at all. + +"If it isn't down at the stable," said Jack soberly, "or by the +apple-cellar 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 slammed, and Jack laughed with his +eyes fast shut and three dimples showing. + +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, "or--WHISTLE, +after--" Her lips quivered a little. She was a distressed +Christmas angel, if ever there was one. + +Wally snorted. "Want us to go CRYING around because the row's +over?" he demanded. "Think Grant ought to wear crepe, I +suppose--because he ain't on ice this morning--or 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 Wally to make, and he +made it with deliberate malice. + +"Now you're shouting!" applauded Gene, also with the intent to be +shocking. + +"THAT'S the stuff," approved Clark, grinning at Evadna's +horrified eyes. + +"Grant can run over me sharp-shod 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 hope?" + +"Good Injun's the stuff, all right. He'd 'a' licked the hull +damn--" + +"Now, Donny, be careful what language you use," Phoebe +admonished, and so cut short his high-pitched song of praise. + +"I don't care--I 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 her--which he did. Evadna +shivered, pressed her wisp of handkerchief against her lips, and +left the table hurriedly. + +"You boys ought to be ashamed of yourselves!" Phoebe scolded +half-heartedly; 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 life--unless he was laid out in church with flower-anchors +piled knee-deep all over him. And to see one shot right before +her very eyes--and by the man she expects--or did expect to +marry--why, 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 rocks which formed the +floor of the milk-house. + +"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 maybe." + +"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 voice. + +"About Vadnie--and you. I notice you don't speak--you haven't +that I've seen, since that day--on 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, +Grant--and 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 minute, but when he +did he spoke very quietly, stroking her hair the while. + +"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 savage--an Indian. My mother's +mother was the daughter of a chief. She was a good woman; my +mother was a good woman; just as good as if she had been white. + +"Mother Hart, I'm a white man in everything but half my mother's +blood. I don't remember her--but 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 +and--and take her in my arms--and love her, knowing that she +feels as she does? She can't even forgive me for killing that +beast! + +"She's a beautiful thing--I 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 drip-dripped to the pool +below. + +"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 of--oh, 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 +when--she went on so. She doesn't know anything about the +realities of life. She doesn't mean to be hard." + +"Yesterday," said Grant with an odd little smile, "she was not +hysterical. It seems that--shooting--was 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 her--and I +didn't satisfactorily explain about that hair and knife that +Hagar had. And--oh, it isn't the killing, altogether! I guess we +were both a good deal mistaken in our feelings." + +"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 extravagance--she shook her head at it. +That was not what she had been taught to call love, and she +wondered how a man and a maid could be mistaken about so vital an +emotion. + +"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 MISTAKEN!" + +Good Indian gave her one of his quick, sidelong glances. + +"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! Bull-headed, 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. + +Good Indian laughed softly and bent to his work again. + +"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 long--only _I_ don't call it love! You might tell +me--" + +"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 his fingers impatiently so that the last drops hurried +to the pool. + +"She's a good girl, and a brave girl," Phoebe remarked +irrelevantly. + +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 surrender. + +"Squaw-talk-far-off heap smart," he mimicked old Peppajee +gravely. "Heap bueno." He stood up as suddenly as he had +started his rock-lifting 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 +whimsically. "Give a fellow time to roll a cigarette, can't +you?" + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Good Indian by B. M. 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