Why
should Bill Holmes keep Ramon posted? Surely not about a silver bridle!
Shunka Chistala was whining in her little tent when she came into the camp.
She heard Bill Holmes stumble over the end of the chuck-wagon tongue and
mutter the customary profanity with which the average man meets an incident of
that kind. She whispered a fierce command to the little black dog and stood
very still for a minute, listening. She did not hear anything further, either
from Bill Holmes or the dog, and finally reassured by the silence, she crept
into her tent and tied the flaps together on the inside, and lay down in her
blankets with the little black dog contentedly curled at her feet with his
nose between his front paws.
CHAPTER V. FOR THE GOOD OF THE COMPANY
All through breakfast Applehead seemed to have something weighty on his mind.
He kept pulling at his streaked, reddish-gray mustache when his fingers should
have been wholly occupied with his food, and he stared abstractedly at the
ground after he had finished his first cup of coffee and before he took his
second. Once Bill Holmes caught him glaring with an intensity which
circumstances in no wise justified--and it was Bill Holmes who first shifted
his gaze in vague uneasiness when he tried to stare Applehead down.
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