y a
general chore man for Pete, but who did little except lie in the shade,
reading novels or gossiping, awoke then, and, having a reputation for
tender-heartedness, waved his arms and called aloud in the name of
peace.

"Turn him loose, I tell yuh! A helpless critter like that--you oughta be
ashamed--abusin' dumb animals that can't fight back!"

"Oh, can't he?" Grant laughed grimly.

"You turn that dog loose!" Saunders became vehement, and paid the
penalty of a paroxysm of coughing.

"You go to the devil. If you were an able-bodied man, I'd get you,
too--just to have a pair of you. Yelping, snapping curs, both of you."
He played the dog as a fisherman plays a trout.

"That dog, him Viney dog. Viney heap likum. You no killum, Good Injun."
The Indian, his arms folded in his blanket, stood upon the porch
watching calmly the fun. "Viney all time heap mad, you killum," he added
indifferently.

"Sure it isn't old Hagar's?"

"No b'long-um Hagar--b'long-um Viney. Viney heap likum."

Grant hesitated, circling erratically with his victim close to the
steps. "All right, no killum--teachum lesson, though. Viney heap bueno
squaw--heap likum Viney. No likum dog, though. Dog all time come along
me." He glanced up, passed over the fact that Miss Georgie Howard was
watching him and clapping her hands enthusiastically at the spectacle,
and settled an unfriendly stare upon Saunders.

"You shut up your yowling. You'll burst a blood vessel and go to heaven,
first thing you know. I've never contemplated hiring you as my guardian
angel, you blatting buck sheep. Go off and lie down somewhere." He
turned in the saddle and looked down at the dog, clawing and fighting
the rope which held him fast just back of the shoulder--blades. "Come
along, doggie--NICE doggie!" he grinned, and touched his horse with the
spurs. With one leap, it was off at a sharp gallop, up over the hill and
through the sagebrush to where he knew the Indian camp must be.

Old Wolfbelly had but that morning brought his thirty or forty followers
to camp in the hollow where was a spring of clear water--the hollow
which had for long been known locally as "the Indian Camp," because of
Wolfbelly's predilection for the spot. Without warning save for the beat
of hoofs in the sandy soil, Grant charged over the brow of the hill and
into camp, scattering dogs, papooses, and squaws alike as he rode.

Shrill clamor filled the sultry air. Sleeping bucks awoke, scowling at
th