"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.
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