We
counted the hosses--nine. An' we saw the roan shine blue in the sunlight."
"Piutes with Creech!" exclaimed Bostil, the deep gloom in his eyes lighting.
"By all thet's lucky! Mebbe them Indians can climb the hosses out of thet hole
an' find water an' grass enough."
"Mebbe," replied Van, doubtfully. "Sure them Piutes could if there's a chance.
But there ain't any grass."
"It won't take much grass travelin' by night."
"So lots of the boys say. But the Navajos they shook their heads. An' Farlane
an' Holley, why, they jest held up their hands."
"With them Indians Creech has a chance to get his hosses out," declared
Bostil. He was sure of his sincerity, but he was not certain that his
sincerity was not the birth of a strange, sudden hope. And then he was able to
meet the eyes of his daughter. That was his supreme test.
"Oh, Dad, why, why didn't you hurry Creech's horses over?" said Lucy, with her
tears falling.
Something tight within Bostil's breast seemed to ease and lessen. "Why didn't
I? . . . Wal, Lucy, I reckon I wasn't in no hurry to oblige Creech.
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