But he felt her begin to tremble under his
fingers, and he stopped as suddenly as he had begun.
"You no glad? You think shame for me? You think I--all
time--very--bad!" Tragedy was in her voice, and in her great,
dark eyes. Good Indian gulped.
"No, Rachel. I don't think that. I want to help you out of
this, if I can, and I meant that if you didn't tell me anything
about it, why--I wouldn't know anything about it. You sabe."
"I sabe." Her lips curved into a pathetic little smile. "I sabe
you know all what I do. You know for why, me thinkum. You think
shame. I no take shame. I do for you no get kill-dead. All
time Man-that-coughs try for shootum you. All time I try for--"
She broke off to stare questioningly up into his face. "I no
tell, you no like for tell," she said quietly. "All same, you
go. You ketchum you hoss, you go ranch. I think sheriff mans
mebbyso come pretty quick. No find out you be here. I no like
you be here this time."
Good Indian turned, yielding to the pleading of her eyes.
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