It was not until his free hand was upon the gate that lack
and Wally knew they had been holding their breath.
"Well--here I am," said Good Indian, after a minute, smiling down
at them with the sunny look in his eyes. "I'm beginning to think
I had a dream. Only"--he dipped his fingers into the pocket of
his shirt and brought up the flattened bullet--"that is pretty
blamed realistic--for a dream." His eyes searched involuntarily
the rim-rock with a certain incredulity, as if he could not bring
himself to believe in that bullet, after all.
"But two of the jumpers are gone," said Wally. "I reckon we
stirred 'em up some yesterday, and they're trying to get back at
us."
"They've picked a dandy place," Good Indian observed. "I think
maybe it would be a good idea to hold that fort ourselves. We
should have thought of that; only I never thought--"
Phoebe, heavy-eyed and pale from wakefulness and worry, came
then, and called them in to breakfast. Gene and Clark came in,
sulky still, and inclined to snappishness when they did speak.
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