"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.
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