im,
and smiled upon her in a way to make her catch her breath in a most
unaccountable manner.

But he did not say anything to her; he was a young man unused to
dalliance when there were serious things at hand.

"I'm going down there and see what they're up to," he told Phoebe,
giving Evadna's hand a squeeze and letting it go. "I suspect there's
something more than keeping the peace behind Baumberger's anxiety to
have them left strictly alone. The boys had better keep away, though."

"Are you going down in the orchard?" Evadna rounded her unbelievably
blue eyes at him. "Then I'm going along."

"You'll do nothing of the kind, little Miss Muffit," he declared from
the top step.

"Why not?"

"I might want to do some swearing." He grinned down at her, and started
off.

"Now, Grant, don't you do anything rash!" Phoebe called after him
sharply.

"'Don't--get--excited!'" he retorted, mimicking Baumberger.

"I'm going a little way, whether you want me to or not," Evadna
threatened, pouting more than ever.

She did go as far as the porch with him, and was kissed and sent back
like a child. She did not, however, go back to her aunt, but ran into
her own room, where she could look out through the grove toward the
orchard--and to the stable as well, though that view did not interest
her particularly at first. It was pure accident that made her witness
what took place at the gate.

CHAPTER XVII. A LITTLE TARGET-PRACTICE

A grimy buck with no hat of any sort and with his hair straggling
unbraided over one side of his face to conceal a tumor which grew just
over his left eye like a large, ripe plum, stood outside the gate, in
doubt whether to enter or remain where he was. When he saw Good Indian
he grunted, fumbled in his blanket, and held out a yellowish envelope.

"Ketchum Squaw-talk-far-off," he explained gutturally.

Good Indian took the envelope, thinking it must be a telegram, though
he could not imagine who would be sending him one. His name was written
plainly upon the outside, and within was a short note scrawled upon a
telegraph form:

"Come up as soon as you possibly can. I've something to tell you."

That was what she had written. He read it twice before he looked up.

"What time you ketchum this?" he asked, tapping the message with his
finger.

"Mebbyso one hour." The buck pulled a brass watch ostentatiously
from under his blanket, held it to his ear a moment, as if he needed
auricular assuranc