Like a hunter poising his shotgun and making ready when his trained bird-dog
points, Luck walked guardedly down the gulch to where Applehead stood watching
the horsemen who had for the moment passed out of sight of those above.
"Now, what's that danged shurf want, prowlin' up HERE with a couple uh
depittys?" Applehead grumbled when he heard Luck's footsteps crunching behind
him. "Uh course," he added grimly, "he MIGHT be viewin' the scenery--but it's
dang pore weather fur pleasure-ridin', now I'm tellin' ye! Them a comin' up
here don't look good to ME, Luck--'n' if they ain't--"
"How do you know it's the sheriff?" Luck for no reason whatever felt a sudden
heaviness of spirit.
"Hey? Think my eyes is failin' me?" Applehead gave him a sidelong glance of
hasty indignation. "I'd know ole Hank Miller a mile off with m' eyes shet."
By then the three riders rode out into plain view. Perhaps the sight of Luck
and Applehead standing there awaiting their arrival, with the whole Happy
Family and Big Aleck Douglas and Lite Avery moving down in a close-bunched,
expectant group behind the two, was construed as hostility rather than
curiosity. At any rate the sheriff and his deputies shifted meaningly in their
saddles and came up sour-faced and grim, and with their guns out and pointing
at the group.
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