PEACE TALK
while he might have taken three or four breaths. Then with his hand he gave the sign for "pow-wow" and waited again.
Luck, his pulse thrilling at the once familiar gesture which his tribal "father," old chief Big Turkey, used to give when he came stalking up for his daily confab with his adopted son, gave back the sign with a hand that trembled noticeably. Whereupon the Indian on the farther rim turned and began dignifiedly to climb through a rift in the ledge down into the Frying-pan.
"He wants a pow-wow," Luck called back to the bunch. "You fellows stay where you're at—I'm going out there in the middle and talk to him."
"Now, Luck, don't let 'em make a dang monkey outa ye," Applehead protested anxiously. "Injuns is tricky—"
"That's all right, You can keep a couple of rifles sighted on that old chief—that's what he is, I take it, from his actions and his talking 'sign'— and then if they pot me, you can pot him. But they won't. I know Injuns better than you do, Applehead. He just wants to talk things over and I'm certainly willing that he should!"
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