Feather-in-the-Wind only grunted and led the way swiftly towards the place where he had come on the Mexican bandits. The dark seemed to bother him little, if at all, for he walked with long strides, missing obstructions as if by intuition. The boys had difficulty in keeping up with him and it was a relief to them when he finally slowed down and stopped. Telling them by gestures to use the greatest caution against making a noise, on he went, the boys following.,
It was weeks before there came a break in the monotony of his work. He had forced himself to be cheerful about his stupid job and not to show by the least sign that he was not entirely content with the work he had been set to do. Mr. Taylor, who since the advent of the Chief, had taken charge of the office work, spoke to Mr. Whitney. “That boy, Hazard, is a good lad,” he said. “Although the plucky beggar won’t own up, I think he is eating his heart out at the draughting board. I can get along without him, so give him a chance outside if you can.”,
“Why—it—it came so.”.
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