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Updated: May 12, 2025
"Catchum rattlesnake bite?" queried Good Indian inanely, as is the habit of the onlooker when the scene shouts forth eloquently its explanation, and questions are almost insultingly superfluous. "Huh!" grunted Peppajee, disdaining further speech upon the subject, and regarded sourly the red drip. "Want me to suck it?" ventured Good Indian unenthusiastically, eying the wound. "Huh!"
With the deliberation of his race, Peppajee stood long minutes motionless, gazing into the valley before he turned with a true Indian shrug and went down into the gully, up the steep slope beyond, and then, after picking his way through a jumble of great bowlders, came out eventually into the dust-ridden trail of the white man.
He climbed negligently, scattering loose rocks down the hill behind him. He had no expectation of coming upon Peppajee unless Peppajee deliberately put himself in his way and so there was no need of caution. He stopped once, and stood long minutes with his head turned to catch the faint sound of high-keyed laughter and talk which drifted up to him.
But Peppajee, hobbling where he must walk, crawling where he might, sliding carefully where a slanting bowlder offered a few feet of smooth descent, and taking hold of Good Indian's offered arm when necessity impelled him, pressed his thin lips together, and refused to answer.
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.
"No," Peaceful assented unhesitatingly, "you no tell lies, Peppajee. We good friends, many years." "Huh! Man-that-catchum-fish, him no yo' frien'. Shont-isham. All time him speakum lies tellum frien' yo', no frien'. Yo' no more tellum stop yo' wikiup. Kay bueno. Yo' thinkum frien'. All time him have bad heart for yo'. Yo' got ranch. Got plenty hay, plenty apple, plenty all thing for eat.
Peppajee looked meaningly at his bandages. "No can watchum." "Well, but you could tell somebody else to watch him. I think he do bad thing to the Harts. You like Harts. You tell somebody to watch Saunders." "Indians pikeway ketchum fish. Come back, mebbyso tellum watchum."
"I never liked the breed, any way you look at 'em," Baumberger stated calmly. "Say, you'll queer yourself good and plenty, if you keep on," Wally interrupted bluntly. "Peppajee's ears aren't plugged with cotton are they, Jim?" Neither Peppajee nor Baumberger made reply of any sort, and Peaceful turned his mild eyes reproachfully toward his untactful son.
He was staring at her in a puzzled way. She was handsome, after her wild, half-civilized type, and her anxiety for his welfare touched him and besought his interest. "Indians go far down " She swept her arm down the narrowing river valley. "Catch fish. Peppajee stay no can walk far. I stay. All go, mebbyso stay five days." Her hand lifted involuntarily to mark the number.
He glanced challengingly across the table at Wally, whose grin was growing rather pronounced. "Huh. Mebbyso you boss all same this ranch?" Peppajee retorted sourly. "Mebbyso Peacefu' tellum, him no likum." Peaceful, thus drawn into the discussion, cleared his throat again. "Wel-l-l WE don't cuss much before the women," he admitted apologetically "We kinda consider that men's talk.
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