ight stand in the open,
on the very rim of the basin. Applehead yelled to him to come back and
not make a dang fool of himself, but luck gave no heed to the warning.
He stood out in the blazing sunshine and gave the peace-sign in reply.

On the-rim rock the Indian stood motionless while he might have taken
three or four breaths. Then with his hand he gave the sign for "pow-wow"
and waited again.

Luck, his pulse thrilling at the once familiar gesture which his tribal
"father," old chief Big Turkey, used to give when he came stalking up
for his daily confab with his adopted son, gave back the sign with a
hand that trembled noticeably. Whereupon the Indian on the farther rim
turned and began dignifiedly to climb through a rift in the ledge down
into the Frying-pan.

"He wants a pow-wow," Luck called back to the bunch. "You fellows stay
where you're at I'm going out there in the middle and talk to him."

"Now, Luck, don't let 'em make a dang monkey outa ye," Applehead
protested anxiously. "Injuns is tricky--"

"That's all right. You can keep a couple of rifles sighted on that old
chief--that's what he is, I take it, from his actions and his talking
'sign' and then if they pot me, you can pot him. But they won't. I
know Injuns better than you do, Applehead. He just wants to talk things
over--and I'm certainly willing that he should!"

"Well, Lite, you keep your sights lined up on that Injun, then. 'N' if
they's a crooked move made towards Luck, you cut loose--'n' say!
You shoot to kill, this time!" He shook his finger in Lite's face
admonishingly. "'S all right t' nip "em here 'n' take a hunk out there
jest t' kinda take their minds off'n us---'s all right enough so fur,
'n' I ain't kickin' none 'cause yuh ain't killed off yuh hit. But if
this here's a trick t' git Luck, you KILL that Injun. 'N' if you don't
do it I'll go out there m'self 'n' choke the dang skunk t' death!"

"I'll kill him--don't worry about that," Lite promised--and the look
in his eyes told them that the Indian was doomed at the first sign of
treachery.

"You fellers wanta keep an eye peeled fer them in the grove," Applehead
warned. "We ain't goin' t' give 'em no chanst t' sneak up 'n' skulp us
whilst we're watchin' Luck 'n' his dang-fool pow-wowin' out there in the
middle."

"Aw, gwan! They wouldn't DAST skelp white folks!" There was a wail in
the voice of Happy Jack.

"They dast if they git the chanst," Applehead retorted fretfully. "'N'
if