That hunk uh pork is kicking up a lot uh dust, but he ain't GETTING anywhere!" "Exactly." Good Indian thrust both hands deep into his trousers pockets, and stared at the ground before him.
Wally gave another snort.

"I don't know how it hits you, Grant--but there's something fishy about it." "Ex-actly." Good Indian took one long step over the ditch, and went on steadily.
Wally, coming again alongside, turned his head, and regarded him attentively.
"Injun's on top," he diagnosed sententiously after a minute.

"Looks like he's putting on a good, thick layer uh war-paint, too." He waited expectantly.

"You might hand me the brush when you're through," he hinted grimly.

"I might like to get out after some scalps myself." "That so ?" Good Indian asked inattentively, and went on without waiting for any reply.