"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.
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