He swung up to the back of the Indian pony that would carry him through the Bad Lands to the railroad, and turned for a last look.

The bucks stood hip-shot and with their arms folded, watching him gravely.
The squaws pushed straggling locks from their eyes that they might watch him also.

The papooses were chewing gum and staring at him solemnly.

Old Mrs.Ghost-Dog, she of the ponderous form and plaid blanket that Luck had used with such good effect in the foreground of his atmosphere scenes, lifted up her voice suddenly, and wailed after him in high-keyed lament that she would see his face no more; and Luck felt a sudden contraction of the throat while he waved his hand to them and rode away.
Well, now he must go on to the next job, which he hoped would be more pleasant than this one had been.

Luck hated to give up those Indians.