It lodged in one of the giant sage-brushes which grew some little distance away on the outer edge of the dooryard, and into this brush Ralston reached and carefully drew it forth. He looked at it again, lest his eyes had deceived him, then he passed it to Susie, who stared blankly from the scrap of paper to him.
XIX
WHEN THE CLOUDS PLAYED WOLF
The Indian woman was restless; she had been so from the time they had lost sight of the town, but her restlessness had increased as the daylight faded and night fell.
“You’re goin’ to bust this seat in if you don’t quit jammin’ around,” Meeteetse Ed warned her peevishly.
Meeteetse was irritable, a state due largely to the waning exhilaration of a short and unsatisfactory spree.
The woman clucked at the horses, and, to the great annoyance of her driver, reached for the reins and slapped them on the back.
“They’re about played out,” he growled. “Forty miles is a awful trip for these buzzard-heads to make in a day. We orter have put up some’eres overnight.”