“IT is my opinion that this is an Indian pony,” announced Lieutenant Wingate, bending over the dead horse nearest to the camp.
“How do you know?” questioned Grace, giving Hippy a swift glance to learn if he were in earnest.
“Because it looks like pictures of Indian ponies that I have seen.”
Grace smiled, but made no comment.
“Here is a rifle under the critter, too,” he added. “I wonder what happened to the rider?”
“Is it an Indian rifle?” asked Miss Briggs in all seriousness.
Hippy confessed that he did not know.
“I don’t believe you would qualify as an expert on things Indian,” laughed Grace, starting on with her companions toward the creek to look at the second victim of the Overton girls’ shooting. They found nothing on that pony except saddle and bridle.
“Please remove the equipment from them, Lieutenant,” Grace requested. “I will take the rifle. I wish Mr. Fairweather to examine the equipment.”
“I sincerely hope he knows more about Indians than Hippy does,” observed Elfreda dryly.