"Why," whispered Whitey, "I thought he was lame. He doesn't even limp."
"Him get well," Injun replied.
The light at the corral moved toward and joined that at the bunk house, and the two revealed a man leading three horses.
"It's Whiff!" gasped Whitey. "I thought he was with the men at the Junction."
"Him get back," Injun grunted, with meaning.
Absorbed in the scene being enacted before them, the boys watched in silence.
Bill Jordan had said that Injun slept with his mind open; that most Injuns did; that if they hadn't done that all these years there wouldn't be no Injuns—and no doubt Bill was right. But any way you thought about it, it was remarkable that the slight sound outside—the thudding of a horse's hoofs on soft ground, or the letting down of the bars of the corral—should have wakened Injun. It probably was not the sound so much as the sense of something unusual, something threatening. Furthermore, Injun had a different way of figuring things from Whitey. Also he had been awake longer, so his mind had a better start, not being bewildered by sleep.
"They're up to something," said Whitey.
"Um," grunted Injun.
The two men went into the bunk house and soon came out with another man who was fat. It undoubtedly was Ham. Each man carried a saddle, which he put on a horse. Then they mounted and rode away.