“Him get well,” Injun replied.

The light at the corral moved toward and joined that at the bunk house, and the two revealed a man leading three horses.

“It’s Whiff!” gasped Whitey.  “I thought he was with the men at the Junction.”

“Him get back,” Injun grunted, with meaning.

Absorbed in the scene being enacted before them, the boys watched in silence.

Bill Jordan had said that Injun slept with his mind open; that most Injuns did; that if they hadn’t done that all these years there wouldn’t be no Injuns—­and no doubt Bill was right.  But any way you thought about it, it was remarkable that the slight sound outside—­the thudding of a horse’s hoofs on soft ground, or the letting down of the bars of the corral—­should have wakened Injun.  It probably was not the sound so much as the sense of something unusual, something threatening.  Furthermore, Injun had a different way of figuring things from Whitey.  Also he had been awake longer, so his mind had a better start, not being bewildered by sleep.

“They’re up to something,” said Whitey.

“Um,” grunted Injun.

The two men went into the bunk house and soon came out with another man who was fat.  It undoubtedly was Ham.  Each man carried a saddle, which he put on a horse.  Then they mounted and rode away.

A cloud moved away, like a curtain, and a full moon shed its light over the scene and into the window.  The hour must have been late, for the moon was low.  Whitey turned and looked at Injun, who was stolidly watching the riders disappear.

“Can you beat that?” Whitey demanded.  “String Beans walked as well as any one.  I’ll bet he wasn’t hurt at the mine at all.  That he was just pretending.”

“Uh,” muttered Injun.

“Mebbe they’ve stolen something,” continued Whitey.

“No, no come into the house, me hear ’em,” said Injun.  “In bunk house nothin’ to steal.”

Suddenly Whitey thought of the negro cook, the only other man on the place, and demanded, “Where’s Slim?”

“Dunno,” said Injun, and followed Whitey, who shoved his feet into a pair of slippers and ran hastily from the room.

The bunk house was dark, the men having put out their lanterns before they rode away.  Whitey groped for matches and, finding one, lighted a lamp.  Slim was nowhere to be seen.  Whitey looked at Injun in wonder and alarm.  Injun looked at Whitey with no expression of any kind.

“Mebbe they’ve killed Slim!” cried Whitey.

“Mebbe,” Injun agreed.

Sitting Bull had silently followed the boys, and while they were investigating with their eyes, he was doing the same with his nose.  His search had led him to a bunk, and with his fore paws on its edge, he was gazing into it, his head on one side and a very puzzled expression on his face.  Bull rarely barked, except to express great joy, and he never was afraid.  His nose had told him what was in that bunk; the curious movements of the object were what puzzled him.  Attracted by the dog’s interest, Injun and Whitey went to him.