Then came a sound. It was the padding of moccasins down the store. Pideau turned an ear.
“The Wolf,” he said.
“From the hills?”
The doctor was smiling.
“I didn’t say,” snapped Pideau.
“No. Well, I guess I’ll get right over to Amos Smith.”
Pideau watched him go. And friendliness gave place to something else in his look as he gazed after him.
Pideau and the Wolf were standing with the counter between them.
“Wal?”