gh he had stood
beside him; neither could he, catching sight of a wavering shadow, say
positively that there went Peppajee.

He waited for a space, stole back to where he could hear any sound
from the porch even if he could not see, and when he was certain that
Baumberger had gone back to his bed, he got his horse, took him by a
roundabout way to the stable, and himself slept in a haystack. At least,
he made himself a soft place beside one, and lay there until the sun
rose, and if he did not sleep it was not his fault, for he tried hard
enough.

That is how Good Indian came to take his usual place at the breakfast
table, and to touch elbows with Evadna and to greet her with punctilious
politeness and nothing more. That is why he got out his fishing-tackle
and announced that he thought he would have a try at some trout himself,
and so left the ranch not much behind Baumberger. That is why he
patiently whipped the Malad riffles until he came up with the portly
lawyer from Shoshone, and found him gleeful over a full basket and
bubbling with innocent details of this gamy one and that one still
gamier. They rode home together, and together they spent the hot
afternoon in the cool depths of the grove.

By sundown Good Indian was ready to call himself a fool and Peppajee Jim
a meddlesome, visionary old idiot. Steal the Peaceful Hart ranch? The
more he thought of it, the more ridiculous the thing seemed.

CHAPTER XI. "YOU CAN'T PLAY WITH ME"

Good Indian was young, which means that he was not always logical,
nor much given to looking very far into the future except as he was
personally concerned in what he might see there. By the time Sunday
brought Miss Georgie Howard and the stir of preparation for the fishing
trip, he forgot that he had taken upon himself the responsibility of
watching the obviously harmless movements of Baumberger, or had taken
seriously the warnings of Peppajee Jim; or if he did not forget, he at
least pushed it far into the background of his mind with the assertion
that Peppajee was a meddlesome old fool and Baumberger no more designing
than he appeared--which was not at all.

What did interest him that morning was the changeful mood of Evadna;
though he kept his interest so well hidden that no one suspected it--not
even the young lady herself. It is possible that if Evadna had known
that Good Indian's attitude of calm oblivion to her moods was only a
mask, she might have continued longer her r