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Updated: May 28, 2025
But Luck was already walking slowly toward the hogans and looking back frequently, so Applehead contented himself by saying, "You wait till this yere trip's over, 'fore ye git so dang funny in yore remarks, young man!" and stalked after Luck, hitching his six-shooter forward as he went. At the shed, the Indian who had peered after Pink stood in the doorway and stared unwinkingly as they came up.
"Well, I calc'late you'd a been laid out now with a knife-cut in yuh som'ers," Applehead stopped twisting his sunburnt mustache to say bluntly. "'S a dang lucky thing fer you, young man, 't you WASN'T on guard, 'n' the only thing't looks queer to me is that you wasn't potted las' night when yuh got out away from here.
They had held their horses down to a pace that merely kept them well ahead of the Indians; and though the horses were sweating, they were holding their own easily enough with a reserve fund of speed if their riders needed to call upon it. Applehead, glancing often behind him, scowled over the puzzle of that fanlike formation of riders.
Like a hunter poising his shotgun and making ready when his trained bird-dog points, Luck walked guardedly down the gulch to where Applehead stood watching the horsemen who had for the moment passed out of sight of those above. "Now, what's that danged shurf want, prowlin' up HERE with a couple uh depittys?" Applehead grumbled when he heard Luck's footsteps crunching behind him.
"What's this new move signify, boss?" he asked, tilting his head backward. "What they spreading out like that for, when they're outa easy rifle range?" Applehead looked behind him, studied the new formation of their enemy, and scowled in puzzlement.
Pink, with an increased respect for the shooting skill of Lite Avery, glanced guiltily at the others to see if they had observed where his second bullet hit. But the others were eyeing Applehead uneasily and paid no attention to Pink or his attempts to hit an Indian on the run.
I've got to raise some money somehow. I hate to ask poor old Applehead " "Pore old Applehead, my granny!" bawled Big Medicine, laughing his big haw-haw. "Pore ole Applehead's sure steppin' high these days. He'd mortgage his ranch and feel like a millionaire, by cripes! His ole Come-Paddy cat jest natcherally walloped the tar outa Shunky Cheestely, and Applehead seen him doin' it.
Pink led up the black and the sorrel, and helped to pack them with bedding and supplies for four, as Luck had ordered, while Lite and Applehead saddled their horses and then came up to help throw the diamond hitches on the packs.
The sheriff had not ridden to Bear Canon expecting to be bullied into civil speech and lengthy explanations; but he knew Applehead Furrman, and he had sufficient intelligence to read correctly the character of the group of men that stood behind Applehead.
Applehead itched to tell her a few things about the social, moral, intellectual and economic status of an "Injun squaw" but there was something in her eye, something in the quiver of her finely shaped nostrils, in the straight black brows, that held his tongue quiet when he met her face to face. You couldn't tell about these squaws.
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