Enoch looked up quickly. "Don't be selfish, Miss Allen!" he exclaimed.
"That's the idea!" Mack joined in vehemently. Then he added, with a
grin, "The Judge has plumb ruined our quiet little expedition anyhow.
And after two weeks of him and Curly, I'm darn glad to see you, Diana.
How's your Dad?"
"Very well, indeed! If he had had any idea that I was going on this sort of trip, though, I think he'd have insisted on coming with me. Judge, let me finish those birds. You're ruining them."
"Whose quail are these, I'd like to know?" demanded Enoch.
"Yours," replied Diana meekly, "but I had thought that some edible portion besides the pope's nose and the neck ought to be left on them."
Jonas, who had been crouching uneasily on a rock, a disapproving spectator of the scene, groaned audibly. Na-che now came into the glow of the fire. She was a comely-faced woman, of perhaps forty-five, neatly dressed in a denim suit. Her black eyes twinkled as she took in the situation.
"Na-che, you come over here and sit down by me," said Jonas. "If I can't help, neither can you."
Na-che smiled, showing strong white teeth. "You feel sick from the saddle, eh, Jonas?"
"Don't you worry about that, woman! I'll show you I'm as good as any
Indian buck that ever lived!"
Na-che grunted incredulously, but sat down beside Jonas nevertheless.