" 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.
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