The Heritage of the Sioux

for a spring roundup of his own. Some perverse spirit seemed to possess him and drive him out of his easy-going shiftlessness. He

when Luck's picture was finished, and repairing harness and attending to the

They did not voice one single doubt of Lucks loyalty to them, but human nature is more prone to suspicion than to faith, as every one knows. And Luck had the power and the incentive to "double-cross" them if he was the kind to do such a thing. He was manager for their little free-lance picture company which did not ev

the same roof with him, had shared his worries, his hopes, and his fears. They did not believe that Luck had appropriated the proceeds of The Phantom Herd and had deliberately left them there to cool their heels and feel the emptiness of their pockets in New Mexico, while he disported himself in Los Angeles; they did-not believe

ssities and were justifying themselves in final arguments with Andy Green, who refused point-blank to leave the; ranch-then, at the time a dramatist would have chosen for his entrance for an effective "curtain," here came Luck, s

ay. He was, for the moment, a culprit caught in the act of committing a grave misdemeanor if not an actual felony.

stopped before the house with as near a flourish as a seven-passenge

ar on a rail fence, to play safe. I believe in keeping all four wheels on the ground-but I like to see 'em turn once in awhile. You get me?" He peeled a five-dollar banknote off a roll the size of his

morous voice from the rear. "This is the ne

ing of the machine. "Howdy, folks!-guess yuh thought I'd plumb lost the trail back," he called to them over his shoulder while he dove after suitcases, pac

at could not bear being stepped upon. She gave her skirts a little shake, pushed back a flying strand

y, hesitated and then came forward with his bony hand outstretched and trembling with

ng his hand and shaking it frankly. "Jean Douglas Avery, thanks to the law that

at would not hurt a very, very sore spot in the heart of big Aleck Douglas. "I'm shore glad to meet yuh again," he stuttered finally, and let it go at that "An

Luck put in, looking around distractedly for a place to deposit his armload of packages. "That's one thing that k

a ranch and traveled a couple of thousand miles in just a week's tim

Applehead to her and to her husband, Lite Avery, and her father. He pulled a skinny individual forward and announced that this was Pete Lowry, one of the Great Western's crack cameramen; and another chubby,

of an empty pipe. And just beyond the corner out of sight but well within hearing, Annie-Many-Ponies stood flattened against the wall and listened with fast-beating pulse for the sound of her name, spoken in the loved voice of Wagalexa Conka. She,

her hand and say to that white woman; "This is my Indian sister, Annie-Many-Ponies, who played the part of the beautiful Indian girl who died so grandly in The Phantom Herd. This is

ady she was jealous of this slim woman with the dark hair and eyes and the slow smile that always caught one's attention and held it. She waited. She wanted Wagalexa Conka to call her in t

sure that it was the last bundle and that nothing had been overlooked. She saw the driver climb in, slam the fore-door shut after him and bend above the starter. She saw the machine slide out of the group and away in a wide ci

glanced around inquiringly. "I thought you had a squaw working for you," she said in that soft, hum

one foot on the porch. "Sure!

you came," said Rosemary careless

"Injuns are heap shy of meeting stran

keen. Within was animated babel and much laughter. But not once again did Annie-Many-Ponies hear her name spoken. Not once again did Wagalexa Conka remember her. Save when she, that slim woman who bad come to play his leads, asked t

was poor and had no money to pay white leading women. But now he had much money; now he could come in a big automobile, with a slim, white leading woman and a camera man and scen

t house and from the ranch without being seen. But though the place was bald and open to the four winds

and would stand submissive before him, and would be glad that he noticed her; for she was born of the tribe where women obey their masters, and the heritage of centuries may not be lightly lain aside like an outgrown garment. She felt that this was so; that

lked; for a certain pride of race, a certain sense of the picture-value of beaded buckskin and bright cloth, held her fast to the gala dress of her people, modified and touched here and there with the gay

look of flatness to the mesa. Even two miles away, in that clear air that dwarfs distance so amazingly, Wagalexa Conka might recognize her if he looked at her with sufficient

palm. On a distant slope a small herd of cattle fed, scattered and at peace. Nearer, a great hawk circled slowly on widespread wings, his neck craned downward as if he w

; she turned abruptly and sought easy footing down that ridge, and climbed hurriedly the longer rise beyond. Once or twice, when she was on high ground, she gla

the dust. Annie-Many-Ponies stood for another moment watching, with that inscrutable half smile on her lips. She untied the cerise silk kerchief which she wore knotted loosely around her slim neck, waited until the horseman showed plainly in the distance and then, raising her right hand high above her head, waved the scarf three tim

h the absolute patience of her race for the horseman had yet a good two miles to cover. While she waited she smiled dreamily to herself and with dainty little pats and pulls she widened the flaring red bows on her hair and retied the cerise sc