“Any time this month’ll do; but come up early; I don’t like climbin’ these hills in the heat o’ the day.”
“I’ll be here the first chance I can get; but I must be off now before it gets dark.”
While Fred went after his mare, the old man stood in his cabin door peering up the hills toward the north.
“Wonder what them Redskins got to-day,” he said, as Fred rode up.
The boy turned in his saddle to look in the same direction and saw several Indians trailing down the hill. Their ponies seemed to be loaded.
“Guess they’ve killed some blacktail or young elk.”
“It’s out of season, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but they don’t pay any heed to the game laws.”
“Won’t the warden arrest them?”
“He’ll ketch ’em fust; and then if he tries to bring ’em to time, there’ll be trouble. They’re perty sassy ’bout their rights in this country yet. You’d better take the trail south o’ the creek, and keep out of their way.”