"
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.
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