INDIANS 113

strange man for long time. She talk when you go;
I tell you what she say. This my nephew Bell.
Clever boy, my nephew. Good boy. Speak better
than me; shoot almost better than me; know all
this country, far away.

With a magnificent gesture he indicated the hori-
zon in every direction. Bell tossed his shock of
straight black hair, folded his arms and looked down
at his feet, one of which was tracing a pattern upon
the ground. He was a handsome fellow, small and
strongly built. His skin was pale for an Indian, and
his eyes were large and dark.

“Sure, me good cuide,”’ he said, suddenly re-
covering from his shyness.

x * *

There was a heavy thudding of hooves on grass,
and the jangling of a bell. Five horses galloped over
the hill, long tails and manes flying in the wind,
and behind them rode Bill with outstretched wav-
ing arms. The bar was hurriedly lifted from the gate;
as the horses tore down upon the camp they were
headed off from the tents and driven through the
opening into the corral, where they bucked and
pranced and jostled one another in their excitement.

Saddles; bridles; packs; rifles; tarpaulins; ropes.