He looked up and down and across, but he did not see me.

After a short wait, while he seemed to be listening, he crept out from behind the bush, turned and lifted forward a bag which hadn't much in it, yet appeared quite heavy.

He went down into the canyon, picking his way carefully and stepping on rocks, mostly.

But in one place where he must cross a wash of deep sand, he went backward and with a dead branch he had picked up among the rocks he scratched out each track as he made it.
Babe reminded me of that to-day when she scratched out the snake's track in the sand up by the mine." Casey was leaning toward her, listening avidly, his pipe going cold in his hand.

"Was he-- ?" "He was an Indian, and very old, and he walked with that bent, tottery walk of old age.