And there a line of stakes across the strawberry patch." Before, the breakfast had continued to seem an important incident temporarily suspended.

Now Peaceful Hart laid hand to his beard, eyed his wife questioningly, let his glance flicker over the faces of his sons, and straightened his shoulders unconsciously.

Good Indian was at the door, his mouth set in a thin, straight, fighting line.

Wally and Jack were sliding their chairs back from the table preparing to follow him.
"I guess it ain't anything much," Peaceful opined optimistically.

"They can't do anything but steal berries, and they're most gone, anyhow.