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come to it. That bunch down in the willows have been off the reservation a long time. Meeker can't get them back without a regiment of soldiers, and he hasn't got along that far yet. Susan is the 'woman in the case,' and she's putting the young bucks into a trance about encroaching white folks, while the old fighters, like Colorow and Douglas, sneak up behind and pat her on the back. Ignacio, Yamanatz--not even old Ouray--can stop them if they once get a supply of powder and lead. Wait until the next annuities are paid in and Uncle Sam will have to send a burying squad over there. They will not do anything for some time; they haven't any meat, no bullets to kill deer with, not even salt." Jack stopped for a breath and Tracy took up the conversation. "I seen yer was good and strong agin' Colorow when yer found out he was here, but I didn't know it was that bad. 'Peers to me yer must have had a grudge agin' him wuss'n yer hev let on." "Yes," echoed Bill, "s--s--sumthin' must a s--s--set yer afire down below." "Well, Bill and Tracy, that old scalp-lifter followed me like a shadow for two days, ready at any moment, if chance presented, to plant the steel in a spot where it would take, as they say when you are vaccinated." The frontiersmen both jumped to their feet with one impulse to get hold of their "Sharps," as if to use them at once. Thus does habit breed in that rugged life. Then they sat down and listened to the rest of the story wherein Jack told of Yamanatz's warnings, of young Colorow's early mission to see if white man Jack was in his camp. But he left the most interesting story until the last, then mentioned no names, "And who do you suppose followed Colorow to see that no harm came to me?" Bill and Tracy guessed every Ute in the White River Reservation. Finally Jack said: "The only one that Susan fears." "Chiquita!" exclaimed Bill and Tracy, in one voice. "The same," said Jack. "Holy smoke! Kingdum cum!" "Yes, the fairest Indian girl that ever drew breath." "Or ever strung a bow," chimed Bill. "Or beaded a moccasin," said Tracy. CHAPTER VII. CHIQUITA WOOED BY ANTELOPE. Dozens of tepee fires flickered against the dark night pall as Chiquita made her way toward the Ute village. The tongues of dozens of Indian dogs snarled their yippi-yappy language at each other, at imaginary evils and at the resounding clatter of hoofs as her pony loped along through the sage-covered me
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