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.

A cloud moved away, like a curtain, and a full moon shed its light over
the scene and into the window. The hour must have been late, for the
moon was low. Whitey turned and looked at Injun, who was stolidly
watching the riders disappear.

"Can you beat that?" Whitey demanded. "String Beans walked as well as
any one. I'll bet he wasn't hurt at the mine at all. That he was just
pretending."

"Uh," muttered Injun.