“Yes, so I observe. What does that signify?”
“I am not well posted on Indian lore, but I do know that, with the Chinese, a broken stick or twig cast before one is a warning. Mr. Fairweather, will you please come here?”
Ike stepped over and stood frowningly regarding the shaft that Grace was holding up for his inspection.
“This is an Indian arrow, is it not, Mr. Fairweather?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“What does it mean when an Indian shoots an arrow with such a break as this in it?”
“Trouble!” answered the stagecoach driver without hesitation. “It’s a warning, Mrs. Gray.”
“Then it must have come from an Indian who feels kindly toward us. What I do not understand is, why, if he wished to give us warning of something, he did not come to us with it.”
“Indians is queer critters,” observed Ike wisely. “There’s no accountin’ for Indians, and ’specially Apaches.”
“I think I agree with you,” answered Grace, rewarding the old man with a smile. “Please see to it that the ponies are well staked. Nothing more, Mr. Fairweather.”