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OLD WIVES TALES.
Down the winding trail of Snake River bluff straggled a blanketed half dozen of old Wolfbelly's tribe, the braves stalking moodily in front and kicking up a gray cloud of dust which enveloped the squaws behind them but could not choke to silence their shrill chatter; for old Hagar was there, and Viney, and the incident of the dog was fresh in their minds and tickling their tongues.
The Hart boys were assembled at the corral, halter-breaking a three-year-old for the pure fun of it.

Wally caught sight of the approaching blotch of color, and yelled a wordless greeting; him had old Hagar carried lovingly upon her broad shoulders with her own papoose when he was no longer than her arm; and she knew his voice even at that distance, and grinned--grinned and hid her joy in a fold of her dingy red blanket.
"Looks like old Wolfbelly's back," Clark observed needlessly.

"Donny, if they don't go to the house right away, you go and tell mum they're here.
Chances are the whole bunch'll hang around till supper." "Say!" Gene giggled with fourteen-year-old irrepressibility.

"Does anybody know where Vadnie is?
If we could spring 'em on her and make her believe they're on the warpath--say, I'll gamble she'd run clear to the Malad!" "I told her, cross my heart, this morning that the Injuns are peaceful now.