You
treated her a hull lot whiter'n what she deserved--now I'm tellin' ye! 'N' her
traipsin' around at nights 'n'--"
"I tell you, you don't know Indians!" Luck swung round in the saddle so that
he could face Applehead. "You don't know the Sioux, anyway. She wouldn't have
made me that peace-sign if she'd been double-crossing me, I tell you. And she
wouldn't have sung the Omaha if she was going to throw in with a thief that
was trying to lay me wide open to suspicion. I've been studying things over in
my mind, and there's something in this affair I can't sabe. And until you've
got some proof, the less you say about Annie-Many-Ponies the better I'll be
pleased."
That, coming from Luck in just that tone and with just that look in his eyes,
was tantamount to an ultimatum, and it was received as one. Old Applehead
grunted and chewed upon a wisp of his sunburned mustache that looked like
dried cornsilk after a frost. The Happy Family exchanged careful glances and
rode meekly along in silence. There was not a man of them but believed that
Applehead was nearer right than Luck, but they were not so foolish as to
express that belief.
After a while Big Medicine began bellowing tunelessly that old ditty, once
popular but now half forgotten:
"Nava, Nava, My Navaho-o I have a love for you that will grow-ow!"
Which stirred old Applehead to an irritated monologue upon the theme of
certain persons whose ignorance is not blissful, but trouble-inviting.
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