to-day,
an' they're raisin' cain. Wisht I'd stayed there, 'stead o' gettin'
soaked."

"I wish you had, too," Bill Jordan murmured to himself, unheard by the
other.

This puncher, Henry Dorgan, was a man who was vaguely disliked on the
ranch, with nothing in particular on which to hang the cause of the
feeling. It was characteristic of him, for one thing, that he had no
nickname. In a country where almost every one's name was familiarly
shortened into Hank, or Bill, or Jim, or was changed to Kid, or Red, or
Shorty, he remained Henry--not even Harry.

He threw off his hat and slicker, stamped to shake off the moisture that
clung to his boots, sat down, and prepared to make himself at home.

"Go ahead, Injun," said Jim Walker. "You was just at th' most
interestin' part."

Injun rose, walked to a bucket in a corner, poured himself a dipper of
water, and drank calmly. Then he returned, sat down and looked straight
ahead of him. There was a painful tension, of which Dorgan did not seem
to be aware. Buck Higgins tried to dispel it.

"Perceed, Injun," he said. "We're all a-waitin' on you."

Without embarassment, Injun continued to say nothing. Bill Jordan began
to show signs of nervousness, which finally broke into speech.

"Had anythin' t' eat, Henry?" he asked.

"Nope. Too busy drinkin' an' things, at th' Cut," replied Dorgan, who,
however, showed no signs of intoxication.

"Better go out t' th' kitchen, an' rustle yourself somep'n'," Bill
suggested.

"Wong'll get crazy if I monkey with his grub," objected Henry.

"I'll take care o' Wong. G'wan, you don't wanta be hungry," Bill said.

"I c'd do with some beans an' coffee," Dorgan allowed, and took himself
off.

After he was gone, there was another period of silence. It was so
unusual for Injun to talk at all, and the effort to start him again
having failed, it seemed now to occur to everybody that it probably
would be better to let him alone until he got in the mood again.
Presently Whitey saw Injun's eyes take on their former faraway look, as
though they were gazing into his father's tepee fire, or into the red
faces of his kinsmen.

"What did the White Chief do when he went back?" Whitey asked softly.

"Him go back and get plenty soldiers," responded Injun. "And come get my
mamma's brother, and tie him on pony, with him face looking at pony
tail. My mamma's brother him lose much blood where stick break through
chest. Him almost died when get to Fort. Wh