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Updated: May 28, 2025
Ramon must have stopped there for water, and we'll find out just how far we are behind." Luck started to dismount and make some attempt at a polite request for water, and for information as well, but Applehead objected and finally had his way. If the squaws could speak English, he argued, they would lie unless they refused to talk at all.
"You may know your business better'n what I do, but by thunder I wouldn't uh give 'em no five dollars ner five cents. 'S like feedin' a stray dog; yuh won't never git rid of 'em now. They'll be hangin' around under yer feet " "At that, I might have use for them," Luck retorted unmoved. "They're fine types." "Types!" old Applehead exploded indignantly. "Types!
Pink did not say anything at all, either in assent or argument; but old Applehead, now that he had established a plausible reason for his sudden impulse, went on arguing the case while he unsaddled his horse. By the time he turned the animal loose he had thought of two or three other reasons why he should take the boys and start out as soon as possible to round up his cattle.
"Get to the point, man. What's wrong?" So Applehead, turning a darker shade of red than was his usual hue, cleared his throat and blurted out what he had to say. He had heard Shunka Chistala whinnying at midnight in the tent of Annie-Many-Ponies, and had gone outside to see what was the matter. He didn't know, he explained, but what his cat Compadre was somehow involved.
There was a hole alongside the fireplace chimney at the end next the hill, and sometimes when Compadre was especially disenchanted with his world, he went into the hole and nursed his grievances in dark seclusion under the house. Applehead got down upon all fours and called "Kitty, kitty, kitty," with his face close to the hole.
"Uh course," he added grimly, "he MIGHT be viewin' the scenery but it's dang pore weather fur pleasure-ridin', now I'm tellin' ye! Them a comin' up here don't look good to ME, Luck 'n' if they ain't " "How do you know it's the sheriff?" Luck for no reason whatever felt a sudden heaviness of spirit. "Hey? Think my eyes is failin' me?" Applehead gave him a sidelong glance of hasty indignation.
From the shots that were fired, Applehead guessed the truth; that Luck's bunch had sensed danger before they had actually ridden into the Frying-pan itself, and that the Navajos were trying to drive them out of the rocks, and were not making much of a success of it.
Six horses there were, and even old Applehead, who was in a bad humor that morning and seemed to hate agreeing with anyone, admitted that probably the four who had committed the robbery and left town in the machine had been met out here by a man who brought horses for them and one extra pack horse.
And then, just when they were making ready for an early start the next morning; just when Applehead had the corral full of horses and his chuckwagon of grub; just when the Happy Family had packed their war-bags with absolute necessities and were justifying themselves in final arguments with Andy Green, who refused point-blank to leave the; ranch then, at the time a dramatist would have chosen for his entrance for an effective "curtain," here came Luck, smiling and driving a huge seven-passenger machine crowded to the last folding seat and with the chauffeur riding on the running board where Luck had calmly banished him when he skidded on a sharp turn and came near upsetting them.
With the going of the sun Applehead and Lite, sitting out their second guard on the pinnacle, discussed seriously the desperate idea of going in the night to the nearest Navajo ranch and helping themselves to what horses they could find about the place. The biggest obstacle was their absolute ignorance of where the nearest ranch lay.
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