And--" Good Indian pushed back his chair with a harsh, scraping noise, and rose.

He was staring hard at Baumberger, and his whole face had sharpened till it had the cold, unyielding look of an Indian.

And suddenly Baumberger raised his head and met full that look.

For two breaths their eyes held each other, and then Baumberger glanced casually at Peaceful.
"Sounds queer--must be some mistake, though.

You must have seen something, girl, that reminded you of stakes.