Chapter XIX. Peace Talk

Across the Frying-pan an Indian stood boldly out upon a jutting point of rock and raised a hand in the sweeping upward motion of the peace-sign. The questing bullets that came seeking for bone and flesh among the rocks and bushes came no more when the signal was passed from those who saw to those farther back who could not see the figure silhouetted against the brilliant blue of the sky. A moment he stood, made the sign again, and waited.

"That's peace-sign, sure as you're born!" Luck cried breathlessly, and went scrambling through the bushes to where he might stand in the open, on the very rim of the basin. Applehead yelled to him to come back and not make a dang fool of himself, but luck gave no heed to the warning. He stood out in the blazing sunshine and gave the peace-sign in reply.

On the-rim rock the Indian stood motionless while he might have taken three or four breaths. Then with his hand he gave the sign for "pow-wow" and waited again.

Luck, his pulse thrilling at the once familiar gesture which his tribal "father," old chief Big Turkey, used to give when he came stalking up for his daily confab with his adopted son, gave back the sign with a hand that trembled noticeably. Whereupon the Indian on the farther rim turned and began dignifiedly to climb through a rift in the ledge down into the Frying-pan.

"He wants a pow-wow," Luck called back to the bunch. "You fellows stay where you're at I'm going out there in the middle and talk to him."

"Now, Luck, don't let 'em make a dang monkey outa ye," Applehead protested anxiously. "Injuns is tricky--"

"That's all right. You can keep a couple of rifles sighted on that old chief--that's what he is, I take it, from his actions and his talking 'sign' and then if they pot me, you can pot him. But they won't. I know Injuns better than you do, Applehead. He just wants to talk things over--and I'm certainly willing that he should!"

"Well, Lite, you keep your sights lined up on that Injun, then. 'N' if they's a crooked move made towards Luck, you cut loose--'n' say! You shoot to kill, this time!" He shook his finger in Lite's face admonishingly. "'S all right t' nip "em here 'n' take a hunk out there jest t' kinda take their minds off'n us---'s all right enough so fur, 'n' I ain't kickin' none 'cause yuh ain't killed off yuh hit. But if this here's a trick t' git Luck, you kill that Injun. 'N' if you don't do it I'll go out there m'self 'n' choke the dang skunk t' death!"

"I'll kill him--don't worry about that," Lite promised--and the look in his eyes told them that the Indian was doomed at the first sign of treachery.

"You fellers wanta keep an eye peeled fer them in the grove," Applehead warned. "We ain't goin' t' give 'em no chanst t' sneak up 'n' skulp us whilst we're