"I don't believe there's a single honest thing about the fellow,"
she said to Good Indian. "When he coughs, it sounds as if he
just did it for effect. When he lies in the shade asleep, I've
seen him watching people from under his lids. When he reads, his
ears seem always pricked up to hear everything that's going on,
and he gives those nasty little slanty looks at everybody within
sight. I don't believe he's really gone--because I can't imagine
him being really anything. But I do believe he's up to something
mean and sneaky, and, since Peppajee has taken this matter to
heart, maybe he can find out something. I think you ought to go
and see him, anyway, Mr. Imsen."
So Good Indian had gone to the Indian camp, and had afterward
ridden along the rim of the bluff, because Sleeping Turtle had
seen someone walking through the sagebrush in that direction.
From the rim-rock above the ranch, Good Indian had heard the
shooting, though the trees hid from his sight what was taking
place, and he had given over his search for Saunders and made
haste to reach home.
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