tle papoose?"

"What's a papoose?" asked Russ.

Laddie didn't know, and the Indian was trying to explain what he meant
when Uncle Fred came along.

"Hello! You boys have company, I see," said the ranchman. "Where did the
Indian come from?" and he looked at the Redman, as Indians are sometimes
called.

"He just walked here," explained Russ. "He was thirsty and he ate some
bread he had in his shirt, and now he asked us if we had a papoose at
our house."

"He means small children," said Uncle Fred. "Papoose is the Indian word
for baby--that is, it is with some Indians. They don't all speak the
same language.

"Where are you from, and what do you want?" Uncle Fred asked the Indian.
"What's your name?"

"Me Red Feather," answered the Indian, at the same time touching a red
feather in his black hair. "Me look for papoose. You got?"

"We haven't got any for you," said Uncle Fred with a laugh. "I guess
none of the six little Bunkers would want to go to live with you, though
you may be a good Indian. But where are you from, and what do you want?"

The Indian began to talk in his own language, but Uncle Fred shook his
head.

"I don't know what you're saying," he said. "If you're lost, and hungry,
go back there and they'll feed you."

"Bill Johnson?" asked the Indian.

"So you know my ranch cook, do you?" asked Uncle Fred quickly. "I
suppose some one told you to ask for him. Well, he'll give you a meal,
and maybe he can understand your talk. I can't. Go back there!" and he
pointed to the ranch house.

The Indian got up, and as he walked away he was seen to limp.

"What's the matter? Hurt your foot?" asked Daddy Bunker.

"Much hurt--yes," was the answer, but the Indian did not stop. He kept
on his limping way to the ranch houses.

"Is it all right for him to wander around over your ranch this way?"
asked Daddy Bunker of Uncle Fred. "Won't he take some of your horses or
cattle?"

"Oh, no, the cowboys will be on the watch. I guess Red Feather is all
right, though I never saw him before. The Indians often get tired of
staying on the reservation and wander off. They go visiting. They stop
here now and then, and Bill Johnson feeds 'em. He sort of likes the
Indians. I suppose one he fed some time ago has told the others, so Bill
has a good name among the Indians. Well, now we'll dig, and see what we
can find out about this queer spring."

"Could we go to see the Indian eat?" asked Russ.

"I like him--he talks so