“Surest thing you know, Sam. But that’s all right. You stay.”
Sam Pretty Cow looked doubtful as an Indian may ever be expected to look.
“You stay, Sam. There’ll be bronks to bust on the Devil’s Tooth for a long while yet.” He moved to the door, pulled it open and stood looking out. Only a few miles away Mary Hope lay asleep, loving him in her dreams, please God. Here, the Shadow hung black over the Devil’s Tooth. He turned to Sam Pretty Cow whose hand was stretched toward the smoky lamp.
“You forget that word, Sam. It doesn’t mean anything at all––to a Piegan. And Sam, if I’m not around to-morrow morning, you ride over to the Douglas ranch, and take back the horse I borrowed. Belle may want to send you to town. She’s there.”
Sam Pretty Cow’s eyes widened appreciably. “Uh-huh––all right. I’m go,” he promised, and blew out the light.
Lance went slowly up to the house and lay face downward on his bed.