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Bower, B. M., 1871-1940

"The Heritage of the Sioux"


Suddenly Applehead, eyeing the rocks speculatively, turned his head suddenly
to look behind and to either side like one who seeks a way of escape from
sudden peril.
"Don't make no quick moves, boys," he said, waving one gloved band
nonchalantly toward the flat land from which they were turning, "but foller my
lead 'n' angle down into that draw off here. Mebbe it's deep enough to put us
outa sight, 'n' mebbe it ain't. But we'll try it."
"What's up? What did yuh see?" Pink and Weary spoke in a duet, urging their
horses a little closer.
"You fellers keep back thar 'n' don't act excited!" Applehead eyed them
sternly over his shoulder. "I calc'late we're just about t' walk into a trap."
He bent--on the side away from the ridge--low over his horse's shoulder and
spoke while he appeared to be scanning the ground. "I seen gun-shine up among
them rocks, er I'm a goat. 'N' if it's Navvies, you kin bet they got guns as
good as ours, and kin shoot mighty nigh as straight as the best of us--except
Lite, uh course, that's a expert." He pointed aimlessly at the ground and
edged toward the draw.
"Ef they think we're jest follerin' a stray track, they'll likely hold off
till we git back in the trail 'n' start comin' on agin," he explained
craftily, still pointing at the ground ahead of him and still urging his horse
to the draw.


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