Good Indian's shoulders went up a little.
"I knew, and that's sufficient. The dead line is down past the Point o' Rocks. After sundown this ranch is going to hold the Harts and their friends--and NO ONE ELSE. Tell that to your pals, unless you've got a grudge against them!"
Stanley held his cigarette between his fingers, and blew smoke through his nostrils while he watched Good Indian turn his back and walk away. He did not easily lose his hold of himself, and this was, with him, a cold business proposition.
Miss Georgie stood where she was until she saw that Stanley did not intend to shoot Good Indian in the back, as he might have done easily enough, and followed so quickly that she soon came up with him. Good Indian turned at the rustling of the skirts immediately behind him, and looked down at her somberly. Then he caught sight of something she was carrying in her hand, and he gave a short laugh.
"What are you doing with that thing?" he asked peremptorily.
Miss Georgie blushed very red, and slid the thing into her pocket.
"Well, every little helps," she retorted, with a miserable attempt at her old breeziness of manner. "I thought for a minute I'd have to shoot that man Stanley--when you turned your back on him."
Good Indian stopped, looked at her queerly, and went on again without saying a word.