e that it was running properly, and pointed to the
hour of three. "Ketchum one dolla, mebbyso pikeway quick. No stoppum,"
he said virtuously.

"You see Peaceful in Hartley?" Good Indian asked the question from an
idle impulse; in reality, he was wondering what it was that Miss Georgie
had to tell him.

"Peacefu', him go far off. On train. All same heap fat man go 'long.
Mebbyso Shoshone, mebbyso Pocatello."

Good Indian looked down at the note, and frowned; that, probably,
was what she had meant to tell him, though he could not see where the
knowledge was going to help him any. If Peaceful had gone to Shoshone,
he was gone, and that settled it. Undoubtedly he would return the next
day--perhaps that night, even. 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. At the road
he met Jack and Wally, just returning from the orchard.

"No use going down there," Jack informed him sulkily. "They're just
laying in the shade with their guns handy, doing nothing. They won't let
anybody cross their line, and they won't say anything--not even when
you cuss 'em. Wally and I got black in the face trying to make them come
alive. Baumberger got back yet? Wally and I have got a scheme--"

"He and your dad took the train for Shoshone. Say, does anyone know what
that bunch over in the meadow is up to?" Good Indian leaned his back
against a tree, and eyed the two morosely.

"Clark and Gene are over there," said Wally. "But I'd gamble they aren't
doing any more than these fellows are. They haven't started to pan out
any dirt--they haven't done a thing, it looks like, but lay around in
the shade. I must say I don't sabe their play. And the worst of it is,"
he added desperately, "a fellow can't do anything."

"I'm going to break out pretty darned sudden," Jack observed calmly.
"I feel it coming on." He smiled, but there was a look of steel in his
eyes.

Good Indian glanced at him sharply.

"Now, you fellows' listen to me," he said. "This thing is partly my
fault. I could have prevented it, maybe, if I hadn't been so taken up
with my own affairs. Old Peppajee told me Baumberger was up to some