"Drink, you sons-uh-guns, drink!" Weary exclaimed jubilantly. "you've sure got
it coming--and mama, how I do hate to see a good horse suffering for a feed or
water, or shelter from a storm!"
They pulled them away before they were satisfied, and led them back to where
green grass was growing. There they pulled the saddles off and let the poor
brutes feed while they unpacked food for themselves.
"It'll pay in the long run," said Luck, "to give them an hour here. I'll pay
the Injuns for what grass they eat. Ramon must have stopped here yesterday.
I'm going up and see if I can't pry a little information loose from those
squaws and papooses. Come on, Applehead--you can talk a little Navvy; you come
and tell 'em what I want."
Applehead hesitated, and with a very good reason. He might, for all he knew,
be trespassing upon the allotment of a friend or relative of some of the
Indians he had been compelled to "get" in the course of his duties as sheriff.
And at any rate they all knew him--or at least knew of him.
"Aw, gwan, Applehead," Happy Jack urged facetiously, sure that Applehead had
tried to scare him with tales of Indians whose pastoral pursuits proclaimed
aloud their purity of souls.
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