"That horn-toad let Mrs. Melby die again to-night," said he.
"It's sure comin' to a runnacaboo between him and me. If somebody
don't kill him pretty soon, he'll wear out that machine before we
git it back."
"Humph! It don't look like we'd ever get it back," said Stover.
One of the four sighed audibly, then vaulting into his saddle,
went loping away without waiting for his companions.
"Cloudy's sore because they didn't play _Navajo,"_ said
Willie. "Well, I don't blame 'em none for omittin' that war-
dance. It ain't got the class of them other pieces. While it's
devised to suit the intellect of an Injun, perhaps; it ain't in
the runnin' with _The Holy City,_ which tune is the sweetest
and sacredest ever sung."
Carara paused with a hand upon the neck of his cayuse.
"Eet is not so fine as _The Baggage Car in Front,"_ he
declared.
"It's got it beat a mile!" Willie flashed back, harshly.
"Here you!" exclaimed Stover, "no arguments. We all have our
favorites, and it ain't up to no individual to force his likes
and dislikes down no other feller's throat.
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