Not A Muscle Of
His Race Moved, But His Eyes Were Wonderful, Brilliant, And Piercing,
And Plainly Said, "Go Ahead, I'm Ready!"
I saw the whole performance and was wondering if I had not better run
for assistance, when Faye laughed, and motioned the Indian to put his
rifle down again, at the same time pulling the trigger of his own to
assure him that it was not loaded.
This apparently satisfied him, but
he did not put his gun back on the floor, but let it rest across his
knees all the time he sat there. And that was for the longest
time - and never once did he change his position, turn his head, or, as
we could see, move an eyelid! But nevertheless he made one feel that
it was not necessary for him to turn his head - that it was all eyes,
that he could see up and down and across and could read one's very
thoughts, too.
The Indian from whom we bought Powder-Face - his name is Dog, you will
remember - has found us out, and like a dog comes every day for
something to eat. He always walks right into the kitchen; if the door
is closed he opens it. If he is not given things he stands around with
the greatest patience, giving little grunts now and then, and watches
Farrar until the poor soldier becomes worn out and in self-defense
gives him something, knowing full well all the time that trouble is
being stored up for the next day.
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