Phoebe seemed undecided between tears and laughter. "Oh, Grant,
GRANT! She'll think you're ready to murder everybody on the
ranch--and you can be such a nice boy when you want to be! I did
hope--"

"I don't want to be nice," Grant objected, drawing a match along
a fairly smooth rock.

"Well, I wanted you to appear at your best; and, instead of that,
here you come, squabbling with old Hagar like--"

"Yes--sure. But who is the timid lady?"

"Timid! You nearly killed the poor girl, besides scaring her half
to death, and then you call her timid. I know she thought there
was going to be a real Indian massacre, right here, and she'd be
scalped--"

Wally Hart came back, laughing to himself.

"Say, you've sure cooked your goose with old Hagar, Grant! She's
right on the warpath, and then some. She'd like to burn yuh
alive--she said so. She's headed for camp, and all the rest of
the bunch at her heels. She won't come here any more till you're
kicked off the ranch, as near as I could make out her jabbering.
And she won't do your washing any more, mum--she said so. You're
kay bueno yourself, because you take Good Indian's part. We're
all kay bueno--all but me. She wanted me to quit the bunch and
go live in her wikiup. I'm the only decent one in the outfit."
He gave his mother an affectionate little hug as he went past,