[Good Indian by B. M. Bower]@TWC D-Link book
Good Indian

CHAPTER XI
15/19

What does it matter, I am--the man I am NOW." He looked at her more calmly.

"An hour ago," he pointed out, "I didn't dream I should kiss you.

Nor you, that you would let me do it." "I didn't! I couldn't help myself.

You--oh, I never saw such a--a brute!" The tears in her eyes were, perhaps, tears of rage at the swiftness with which he had mastered the situation and turned it in a breath from the safe channel of petty argument.

She struck Huckleberry a blow with her whip which sent that astonished animal galloping down the slope before them, his ears laid back and his white eyelashes blinking resentment against the outrage.
Good Indian laughed aloud, spurred Keno into a run, and passed her with a scurry of dust, a flash of white teeth and laughing black eyes, and a wave of his free hand in adieu.


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