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He had not, it seemed to him, had more than two minutes with Evadna since that evening of rapturous memory when they rode home together from the Malad, and afterward sat upon the stone bench at the head of the pond, whispering together so softly that they did not even disturb the frogs among the lily-pads within ten feet of them. It was not so long ago, that evening.
I'll watchum plenty," Good Indian promised lightly, gave a glance of passing, masculine interest at the squaw who was braiding her hair, and who was young and fresh-cheeked and bright-eyed and slender, forgot her the instant his eyes left her, and made haste to return to the Malad and the girl who held all his thoughts and all his desire.
Me no sabe why him walk, walk in night me heap watchum." "You mean Baumberger? He's all right. He comes down here to catchum many fish trout, up in the Malad, you sabe. Heap friend Peaceful. You no likum?" "Kay bueno." Peppajee rested a forefinger upon Good Indian's arm. "Sun up there," he pointed high in the west. "Me go all same Hartley. Come stable Pete stable me walkum close no makum noise.
"Your old dad will sweat blood for this and you'll be packing your blanket on your back and looking for work before snow flies," was his way of summing up. Still, he did not shoot. It was like throwing pebbles at the bowlder in the Malad, the day before.
What for you all time watchum Baumberger?" he added, remembering then what had brought them both upon the bluff. "Baumberger all time fish no more." He waved his hand toward the Malad. "Baumberger bueno catchum fish no more." Peppajee got slowly and painfully upon his feet rather, upon one foot. When Good Indian held out a steadying arm, he accepted it, and leaned rather heavily.
He ducked when he saw me turn my head looked to me like the surly buck that blew in to the ranch the night I came; Jim something-or-other. By the great immortal Jehosaphat!" he swore humorously, "I'd like to tie him up in his dirty blanket and heave him into the river only it would kill all the fish in the Malad." Good Indian laughed. "Oh, I know it's funny, young fella," Baumberger growled.
"Donny, if they don't go to the house right away, you go and tell mum they're here. Chances are the whole bunch'll hang around till supper." "Say!" Gene giggled with fourteen-year-old irrepressibility. "Does anybody know where Vadnie is? If we could spring 'em on her and make her believe they're on the warpath say, I'll gamble she'd run clear to the Malad!"
That is why he got out his fishing-tackle and announced that he thought he would have a try at some trout himself, and so left the ranch not much behind Baumberger. That is why he patiently whipped the Malad riffles until he came up with the portly lawyer from Shoshone, and found him gleeful over a full basket and bubbling with innocent details of this gamy one and that one still gamier.
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