THE HERITAGE OF THE SIOUX
"What you meant was Annie," Luck broke in uncompromisingly. "And I'm not condemning her just because things look black. You don't know Indians the way I know them. There's some things an Indian will do, and then again there's some things they won't do. You boys don't know it—but yesterday morning when we left the ranch, Annie-Many-Ponies made me the peace-sign. And after that she went into her tent and began to sing the Omaha. It didn't mean anything to you—Old Dave is the only one that would have sabed, and he wasn't there. But it meant enough to me that I came pretty near riding back to have a pow-wow with Annie, even if we were late. I wish I had. I'd have less on my conscience right now."
"Fur's I kin see," Applehead dissented impatiently, "you ain't got no call to have nothin' on your conscience where that thar squaw is concerned. You treated her a hull lot whiter'n what she deserved—now I'm tellin' ye! 'N' her traipsin' around at nights 'n'—"
"I tell you, you don't know Indians!" Luck swung round in the saddle so that he could face
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