not for Saunders now, but for sagebrush. She went outside, and
looked carefully at her immediate surroundings.

"There's hardly a root of it anywhere around close," she said to
herself. "Nor around the store, either--nor any place where one would be
apt to go ordinarily."

She stood there meditatively for a few minutes, remembered that two
hours do not last long, and saddled hurriedly. Then, mounting awkwardly
because of the large, lumpy bag of candy which she must carry in her
hands for want of a pocket large enough to hold it, she rode away to the
Indian camp.

The camp was merely a litter of refuse and the ashes of various
campfires, with one wikiup standing forlorn in the midst. Miss Georgie
never wasted precious time on empty ceremony, and she would have gone
into that tent unannounced and stated her errand without any compunction
whatever. Put Peppajee was lying outside, smoking in the shade, with his
foot bandaged and disposed comfortably upon a folded blanket. She tossed
him the bag of candy, and stayed upon her horse.

"Howdy, Peppajee? How your foot? Pretty well, mebbyso?"

"Mebbyso bueno. Sun come two time, mebbyso walk all same no snake
biteum." Peppajee's eyes gloated over the gift as he laid it down beside
him.

"That's good. Say, Peppajee," Miss Georgie reached up to feel her
hatpins and to pat her hair, "I wish you'd watch Saunders. Him no good.
I think him bad. I can't keep an eye on him. Can you?"

"No can walk far." Peppajee looked meaningly at his bandages. "No can
watchum."

"Well, but you could tell somebody else to watch him. I think he do
bad thing to the Harts. You like Harts. You tell somebody to watch
Saunders."

"Indians pikeway--ketchum fish. Come back, mebbyso tellum watchum."

Miss Georgie drew in her breath for further argument, decided that it
was not worth while, and touched up her horse with the whip. "Good-by,"
she called back, and saw that Peppajee was looking after her with his
eyes, while his face was turned impassively to the front.

"You're just about as satisfying to talk to as a stump," she paid
tribute to his unassailable calm. "There's four bits wasted," she
sighed, "to say nothing of the trouble I had packing that candy to
you--you ungrateful old devil." With which unladylike remark she
dismissed him from her mind as a possible ally.

At the ranch, the boys were enthusiastically blistering palms and
stiffening the muscles of their backs, turning the water awa