d
well I didn't mean them--nor lots of other women I know. What I meant
was--"

"What you meant was Annie," Luck broke in uncompromisingly. "And I'm not
condemning her just because things look black. You don't know Indians
the way I know them. There's some things an Indian will do, and then
again there's some things they won't do. You boys don't know it--but
yesterday morning when we left the ranch, Annie-Many-Ponies made me the
peace-sign. And after that she went into her tent and began to sing the
Omaha. It didn't mean anything to you--Old Dave is the only one that
would have sabed, and he wasn't there. But it meant enough to me that
I came pretty near riding back to have a pow-wow with Annie, even if we
were late. I wish I had. I'd have less on my conscience right now."

"Fur's I kin see," Applehead dissented impatiently, "you ain't got
no call to have nothin' on your conscience where that thar squaw is
concerned. You treated her a hull lot whiter'n what she deserved--now
I'm tellin' ye! 'N' her traipsin' around at nights 'n'--"

"I tell you, you don't know Indians!" Luck swung round in the saddle
so that he could face Applehead. "You don't know the Sioux, anyway. She
wouldn't have made me that peace-sign if she'd been double-crossing me,
I tell you. And she wouldn't have sung the Omaha if she was going to
throw in with a thief that was trying to lay me wide open to suspicion.
I've been studying things over in my mind, and there's something in this
affair I can't sabe. And until you've got some proof, the less you say
about Annie-Many-Ponies the better I'll be pleased."

That, coming from Luck in just that tone and with just that look in his
eyes, was tantamount to an ultimatum, and it was received as one. Old
Applehead grunted and chewed upon a wisp of his sunburned mustache that
looked like dried cornsilk after a frost. The Happy Family exchanged
careful glances and rode meekly along in silence. There was not a man
of them but believed that Applehead was nearer right than Luck, but they
were not so foolish as to express that belief.

After a while Big Medicine began bellowing tunelessly that old ditty,
once popular but now half forgotten:

"Nava, Nava, My Navaho-o
I have a love for you that will grow-ow!"

Which stirred old Applehead to an irritated monologue upon the theme of
certain persons whose ignorance is not blissful, but trouble-inviting.
Applehead, it would seem from his speech upon the subje