ir manner sent a shiver up Dillon's spine. He and Hawks
were armed only with revolvers. It would be the easiest thing in the
world for the Indians to kill them if they wished.

Hawks called a cheerful greeting. It suggested the friendliest of
feeling. The instructions given to the punchers were to do nothing to
irritate the Utes just now.

The mental attitude of the Indians toward the cattlemen and cowboys was a
curious one. They were suspicious of them. They resented their presence
in the country. But they felt a very wholesome respect for them. These
leather-chapped youths could outride and outshoot them. With or without
reason, the Utes felt only contempt for soldiers. They were so easily led
into traps. They bunched together when under fire instead of scattering
for cover. They did not know how to read sign on the warmest trail. These
range-riders were different. If they were not as wary as the Utes, they
made up for it by the dash and aplomb with which they broke through
difficulties.

In Bear Cat the day before Bob had heard settlers discuss the unrest of
the Indians. The rumor was that soon they meant to go on the warpath
again. Colorow himself, with a specious air of good will, had warned a
cattleman to leave the country while there was time.

"You mebbe go--mebbe not come back," he had suggested meaningly. "Mebbe
better so. Colorow friend. He speak wise words."

Until the Utes were out of gunshot Bob felt very uneasy. It was not many
years since the Meeker massacre and the ambushing of Major Thornburg's
troops on Milk Creek.

Reeves and Hollister were in the bunkhouse when Bob entered it just
before supper. He heard Dud's voice.

"... don't like a hair of his red haid, but that's how it'll be far as
I'm concerned."

There was a moment's awkward silence. Dillon knew they had been talking
about him. Beneath the deep gold of his blond skin Hollister flushed. Boy
though he was, Dud usually had the self-possession of the Sphinx. But
momentarily he was embarrassed.

"Hello, fellow!" he shouted across the room. "How'd she go?"

"All right, I reckon," Bob answered. "I wasn't much use."

He wanted to ask Dud a question, but he dared not ask it before anybody
else. It hung in his mind all through supper. Afterward he found his
chance. He did not look at Hollister while he spoke.

"Did--did you hear how--Miss Tolliver is?" he asked.

"Doc says he can't tell a thing yet. She's still mighty sick. But Blister