"Just scouting around a little," was the unsatisfactory reply he
got, and he scowled as Good Indian rode away.
CHAPTER XV
SQUAW-TALK-FAR-OFF HEAP SMART
Good Indian spoke briefly with the good-looking young squaw, who
had a shy glance for him when he came up; afterward he took hold
of his hat by the brim, and ducked through the low opening of a
wikiup which she smilingly pointed out to him.
"Howdy, Peppajee? How you foot?" he asked, when his unaccustomed
eyes discerned the old fellow lying back against the farther
wall.
"Huh! Him heap sick all time." Having his injury thus brought
afresh to his notice, Peppajee reached down with his hands, and
moved the foot carefully to a new position.
"Last night," Good Indian began without that ceremony of long
waiting which is a part of Indian etiquette, "much men come to
Hart ranch. Eight." He held up his two outspread hands, with
the thumbs tucked inside his palms. "Come in dark, no seeum till
sun come back.
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