Ping was beyond all ridicule now, for he had proved himself a young brave. Wah-wah-o-be was so proud of him that she had not a word of grief to utter over the mess of woollen ribbons which was all that remained of her best Reservation blanket.
Chapter XIII.
THE RETURN OF KAH-GO-MISH.
There were no alarms of cougars nor of any human wild people around the Santa Lucia ranch. Even the dogs could hardly get up an excuse for healthy barking after dark.
Just in the dawn of that next morning, however, the cowboy on guard at the stockade gate was taken by surprise. Nobody rode up to the wooden barrier, but his quick ears caught a stealthy footstep behind him, and he turned sharply around with his hand on the lock of his rifle.
Did she mean to murder him?
There she stood, Norah McLory, with a double-barrelled gun in one hand and a cleaver in the other, and a red shawl pinned all around her. She made a very striking picture, and the look on her face was very much as if she were ready to strike.
"What's up, Norah?" exclaimed the cowboy.