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“One day the Kid sent me out to rustle a hand-out. We were in Iowa at that time, just when they were bringing in the wheat harvest. I went up to a farmhouse and started my spiel on a lady who came to the door. She let me finish what I had to say, took me in and without a word gave me a big spread. But when I got through she made up for her silence. She began jawing at me just as a mother might.” “Boss Whitney not here,” stated the Indian. “Boss Taylor good man but not like Chief. You wait for him. Now I go send one, two my young men trail Miguel. Perhaps they catch him—Jenkins, he never catch him. He tired. Not much good trail nohow.” As he made his way back to the upper camp, Bob realized that in all probability he had done a foolish thing to mix in on a quarrel between the Mexicans and the Indians. That probably would mark him out among the Mexicans as someone unfriendly to them and it might have been better if he had stayed in the background. But the sight of the crowd jumping on the solitary Indian had been too much for him..
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And the god shall impart a fine sense of delight The man looked at the boy sharply but made no reply. From his manner Bob was sure that Mr. Taylor knew but did not wish to confess his knowledge. Figuring that his silence was equal to an assent, Bob went on: “Indeed?” Aunt Grenertsen looked at the little old stamp dubiously, turning it round and round. Oh, they didn’t know anything about the trouble with Bob, and he didn’t dare to say a word about the racing or anything..
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