o much as a glimpse of him.

And who could he be? And why was he shooting at Good Indian, so far a
non-combatant, guiltless of even firing a single shot since the trouble
began?

Wally came in, his hat far back on his head, a cigarette in the
corner of his mouth, and his manner an odd mixture of conciliation and
defiance, ready to assume either whole-heartedly at the first word from
the man he had cursed so unstintingly before he slept. He looked at Good
Indian, caught sight of the leaden pellet he was thoughtfully turning
round and round in his fingers, and chose to ignore for the moment any
unpleasantness in their immediate past.

"Where you ketchum?" he asked, coming a bit closer.

"In the side of the chicken-house." Good Indian's tone was laconic.

Wally reached out, and took the bullet from him that he might juggle it
curiously in his own fingers. "I don't think!" he scouted.

"There's another one there to match this," Good Indian stated calmly,
"and if I should walk over there after it, I'll gamble there'd be more."

Wally dropped the flattened bullet, stooped, and groped for it in the
litter on the floor, and when he had found it he eyed it more curiously
than before. But he would have died in his tracks rather than ask a
question.

"Didn't anybody take a shot at you, as you came from the house?" Good
Indian asked when he saw the mood of the other.

"If he did, he was careful not to let me find it out." Wally's
expression hardened.

"He was more careless a while ago," said Good Indian. "Some fellow up
on the bluff sent me a little morning salute. But," he added slowly, and
with some satisfaction, "he's a mighty poor shot."

Jack sauntered in much as Wally had done, saw Good Indian sitting there,
and wrinkled his eyes shut in a smile.

"Please, sir, I never meant a word I said!" he began, with exaggerated
trepidation. "Why the dickens didn't you murder the whole yapping bunch
of us, Grant?" He clapped his hand affectionately upon the other's
shoulder. "We kinda run amuck yesterday afternoon," he confessed
cheerfully, "but it sure was fun while it lasted!"

"There's liable to be some more fun of the same kind," Wally informed
him shortly. "Good Injun says someone on the bluff took a shot at him
when he was coming to the stable. If any of them jumpers--"

"It's easy to find out if it was one of them," Grant cut in, as if the
idea had just come to him. "We can very soon see if they're all on their
li