The chorus laughed like pleased children.
Scipio looked at them solemnly. He explained how much he would like to sell cheap, if only he were a medicine-man like Horacles.
“You medicine-man?” they asked the assistant clerk.
“Yes,” said Horacles, pleased. “I big medicine-man.”
“Ah, nah!” The soft, mocking words ran among them like the flight of a moth.
Soon with their hoods over their heads they began to go home on their ponies, blanketed, feathered, many-colored, moving and dispersing wide across the sage-brush to their far-scattered tepees.
High Bear lingered last. For a long while he had been standing silent and motionless. When the chorus spoke he had not; when the chorus laughed he had not. Now his head moved; he looked about him and saw that for a moment he was alone in a way. He saw the Virginian reading a newspaper, and his friend “Sippo” bending down and attending to his leg. Horacles had gone into an inner room. Left on the counter lay the pack of cards. High Bear went quickly to the cards, touched them, lifted them, set them down, and looked about him again. But the Virginian was
High Bear galloped away into the dusk