"You no get mad.

You come eat supper." "No!" Peppajee jerked the word out with unmistakable finality.

"No eat.
Bimeby mebbyso makum big talk yo'." Peaceful studied his face, found it stern and unyielding, and nodded assent.

"All right.

I eat, then I talk with you." He turned somewhat reluctantly and followed the others inside, leaving Peppajee to pass the time away as pleased him best.
Peppajee stood still for a moment listening to the clatter of dishes from the kitchen, and then with dignity end deliberation seated himself upon the lowest step of the porch, and, pulling his blanket tight around him, resettled his disreputable old sombrero upon his head and stared fixedly at the crimson glow which filled all the west and made even the rugged bluff a wonderful thing of soft, rose tints and shadows of royal purple.