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Good Indian by B. M. Bower
page 56 of 317 (17%)
defending me to that Indian."

"I didn't. Nobody was attacking you, so I couldn't very well
defend you, could I? I had to take a fall out of old Peppajee,
just on principle. I don't get along very well with my noble red
cousins. I wasn't doing it on your account, in particular."

"Oh, I see." She rose rather suddenly from the bench. "It
wasn't even common humanity, then--"

"Not even common humanity," he echoed affirmatively. "Just a
chance I couldn't afford to pass up, of digging into Peppajee."

"That's different." She laughed shortly and left him, running
swiftly through the warm dusk to the murmur of voices at the
house.

Grant sat where she left him, and smoked two cigarettes
meditatively before he thought of returning to the house. When
he finally did get upon his feet, he stretched his arms high
above his head, and stared for a moment up at the treetops
swaying languidly just under the stars.

"Girls must play the very deuce with a man if he ever lets them
get on his mind," he mused. "I see right now where a fellow
about my size and complexion had better watch out." But he
smiled afterward, as if he did not consider the matter very
serious, after all.


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