She ambled up at Huckleberry's favorite shuffling gait, struck him with her whip--a blow which would not have perturbed a mosquito--when he showed a disposition to stop beside Grant, and then, when Huckleberry reluctantly resumed his pacing, pulled him up, and looked back at the figure stooped over the hoof he held upon his knee.

He was digging into the caked dirt inside the hoof with his pocketknife, and, though Evadna waited while she might have spoken a dozen words, he paid not the slightest attention--and that in spite of the distinct shadow of her head and shoulders which lay at his feet.
"Oh--Grant," she began perfunctorily, "I'm sorry to trouble you--but do you happen to have an empty pocket ?" Good Indian gave a final scrape with his knife, and released the foot, which Keno immediately stamped pettishly into the dust.

He closed the knife, after wiping the blade upon his trousers leg, and returned it to his pocket before he so much as glanced toward her.
"I may have.

Why ?" He picked up the bridle-reins, caught the saddle-horn, and thrust his toe into the stirrup.

From under his hat-brim he saw that she was pinching her under lip between her teeth, and the sight raised his spirits considerably.
"Oh, nothing.