That
hunk uh pork is kicking up a lot uh dust, but he ain't GETTING
anywhere!"
"Exactly." Good Indian thrust both hands deep into his trousers
pockets, and stared at the ground before him.
Wally gave another snort. "I don't know how it hits you,
Grant--but there's something fishy about it."
"Ex-actly." Good Indian took one long step over the ditch, and
went on steadily.
Wally, coming again alongside, turned his head, and regarded him
attentively.
"Injun's on top," he diagnosed sententiously after a minute.
"Looks like he's putting on a good, thick layer uh war-paint,
too." He waited expectantly. "You might hand me the brush when
you're through," he hinted grimly. "I might like to get out
after some scalps myself."
"That so?" Good Indian asked inattentively, and went on without
waiting for any reply. They left the garden, and went down the
road to the stable, Wally passively following Grant's lead.
Someone came hurrying after them, and they turned to see Jack.
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