"Bad spirits here. Bad medicine," grunted the old Indian.
"What's that? You mean to say one of those bootleggers that sell you reds bad whisky is around?"
"No. No firewater. Heap worse," said the Indian.
"Can't be anything worse than whisky," declared Cowboy Jack emphatically.
"Bad spirits," said the Indian stubbornly. "In box. Make knocking. White chief come see—come hear."
He called Cowboy Jack a "chief" because the white man owned the big ranch. Rose and Russ listened very earnestly to what the Indian said, and they urged Cowboy Jack to go to the Indian encampment and see what it meant.
"What's a spirit, Russ?" asked his sister.
"Alcohol," declared Russ, proud of his knowledge. "But I don't see how alcohol could knock on a box. It's a liquid—like water, you know."
They trotted after Cowboy Jack and the old Indian and came to the big box that had been locked in preparation for shipping back to the reservation when the Indians got through their job here with the picture company. It looked to be a perfectly innocent box, and at first the children and Cowboy Jack heard nothing remarkable from within it.
"I reckon you were hearing things in your mind, old fellow," said the ranchman to the Indian.