“Thet was a clust rub, stranger.”
“It were, mate, mighty clust. Ye see I made a break when they pitched inter the Blackfeet and one of them fired at me, and gev me this beauty spot.”
“Very kind in him, I must say. What are these Sioux doing here at this time?”
“I dunno; they ar’ out of ther stamping-ground a smart heap.”
“You bet; who is ther leader?”
“I dunno his name; but I think they called him Curly-headed Ned. Anyhow, thet’s a name he’s got on the border.”
“Did you see him?”
“He didn’t show hisself while I was thar. I say, boss, who’s that you’ve got in that outlandish hitch?”
“Thet chap, we think, knows too much about these Modoc Sioux and konsekently we jist tuk the liberty of kinder hitching him up.”
“The varmint! Let me get at him and I’ll chaw him up, audacious. Yah—hip! I want his ha’r. Lend me a knife, some one; a hairpin, a toothpick—any cussid thing. I will hev his wool.”