"Why the dickens didn't you murder the
whole yapping bunch of us, Grant?" He clapped his hand
affectionately upon the other's shoulder. "We kinda run amuck
yesterday afternoon," he confessed cheerfully, "but it sure was
fun while it lasted!"
"There's liable to be some more fun of the same kind," Wally
informed him shortly. "Good Injun says someone on the bluff took
a shot at him when he was coming to the stable. If any of them
jumpers--"
"It's easy to find out if it was one of them," Grant cut in, as
if the idea had just come to him. We can very soon see if
they're all on their little patch of soil. Let's go take a
look."
They went out guardedly, their eyes upon the rim-rock. Good
Indian led the way through the corral, into the little pasture,
and across that to where the long wall of giant poplars shut off
the view.
"I admire courage," he grinned, "but I sure do hate a fool."
Which was all the explanation he made for the detour that hid
them from sight of anyone stationed upon the bluff, except while
they were passing from the stable-door to the corral; and that,
Jack said afterward, didn't take all day.
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