Do you hear? And don't you
dare let another yip out of you till you can talk sense."
Good Indian stood upon the porch, and heard every word of that.
He heard also the shuffle of feet as Miss Georgie urged Evadna to
her room--it sounded almost as if she dragged her there by
force--and he rolled a cigarette with fingers that did not so
much as quiver. He scratched a match upon the nearest post, and
afterward leaned there and smoked, and stared out over the pond
and up at the bluff glowing yellow in the sunlight. His face was
set and expressionless except that it was stoically calm, and
there was a glitter deep down in his eyes. Evadna was right, to
a certain extent the Indian in him held him quiet.
It occurred to him that someone ought to pick up Baumberger, and
put him somewhere, but he did not move. The boys and Peaceful
must have stayed down in the garden, he thought. He glanced up
at the tops of the nodding poplars, and estimated idly by their
shadow on the bluff how long it would be before sundown, and as
idly wondered if Stanley and the others would go, or stay.
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