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Updated: June 24, 2025
He was beginning to feel the need of a quiet hour in which to study the tangle, but he had a suspicion that Baumberger had some reason other than a desire for peace in wanting the jumpers left to themselves, and he started toward the orchard, as he had at first intended. "Mebbyso ketchum one dolla, yo'," hinted Charlie, the buck. But Good Indian went on without paying any attention to him.
"All time, yo' sleepum," he said, in the sonorous, oracular tone which he usually employed when a subject held his serious thought. "Peaceful Hart, him all same sleepum. All same sleepum 'longside snake. No seeum snake, no thinkum mebbyso catchum bite." He glanced down at his own snake-bitten foot. "Snake bite, make all time much hurt."
The veneer of white men's ways dropped from him when he entered his own wikiup, and he would not speak quickly. "Las' night mebbyso yo' watchum?" he asked, as one who holds his judgment in abeyance. "I heap fool. I no watch. I let those men come while I think of a girl. My eyes sleep." Good Indian was too proud to parry, too bitter with himself to deny.
S'pose some time me mamook sick, me feel all same oleman no more grub stop, no more smokin' stop mebbyso all rancher potlatch grub, potlatch smokin', send doctin', send med'cin'? You kumtuks?" He formulated this general scheme of pension and old-age insurance gravely.
Peppajee did not seem to hear. "Sheriff say that, too. Sheriff found the gun." "Mebbyso sheriff mans heap damfool. Mebbyso heap smart. No sabe." Good Indian studied him silently. Reticence was not a general characteristic of Peppajee; it seemed to indicate a thorough understanding of the whole affair. He wondered if Rachel had told her uncle the truth.
Then he saw Peppajee sitting beside his own wikiup, and went to him instead. "What's the matter here, Peppajee?" he asked. "Heap trouble walk down at Hart Ranch. Trouble walk here all same, mebbyso?" Peppajee looked at him sourly, but the news was big, and it must be told. "Heap much trouble come. Squaw callum Hagar make much talk. Do much bad, mebbyso.
Rachel mebbyso thinkum all time yo' Indian. Mebbyso thinkum be yo' squaw. Kay bueno. Yo' all time white mans. No speakum Rachel no more, yo' be friend. "Yo' speakum, me like to kill yo', mebbyso." He spoke calmly, but none the less his words carried conviction of his sincerity. Within the wikiup Good Indian heard a smothered sob. He listened, heard it again, and looked challengingly at Peppajee.
The young squaw folded her arms inside her bright, plaid shawl, and listened with an indifference bordering closely on contempt, one would judge from her masklike face. Hagar turned from berating her, and thrust out her chin at Miss Georgie. "I go. Sun go 'way, mebbyso I come. Mebbyso yo' heart bad. Me ketchum much dolla yo', me no tellum, mebbyso.
Heap glad to see you. Bueno buttermilk mebbyso you drinkum?" However diffident they might be when it came to announcing their arrival, their bashfulness did not extend to accepting offers of food or drink. Three brown hands were eagerly outstretched though it was the hand of Hagar which grasped first the big tin cup.
"I'm Rachel's friend, Peppajee." Good Indian spoke softly so that others might not hear. "I sabe what Rachel do. Rachel good girl. I don't want to bring trouble. I want to help." Peppajee snorted. "Yo' make heap bad heart for Rachel," he said sourly. "Yo' like for be friend, yo' no come no more, mebbyso. No speakum. Bimeby mebbyso no have bad heart no more. Kay bueno. Yo' white mans.
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