She did not, however, go back to her aunt,
but ran into her own room, where she could look out through the
grove toward the orchard--and to the stable as well, though that
view did not interest her particularly at first. It was pure
accident that made her witness what took place at the gate.
CHAPTER XVII
A LITTLE TARGET-PRACTICE
A grimy buck with no hat of any sort and with his hair straggling
unbraided over one side of his face to conceal a tumor which grew
just over his left eye like a large, ripe plum, stood outside the
gate, in doubt whether to enter or remain where he was. When he
saw Good Indian he grunted, fumbled in his blanket, and held out
a yellowish envelope.
"Ketchum Squaw-talk-far-off," he explained gutturally.
Good Indian took the envelope, thinking it must be a telegram,
though he could not imagine who would be sending him one. His
name was written plainly upon the outside, and within was a short
note scrawled upon a telegraph form:
"Come up as soon as you possibly can.
Pages:
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278