"It's a great ride, says you? Son, I once attends where a lecture sharp holds forth as to Napoleon's retreat from Moscow. As was the proper thing I sets silent through them hardships. But I could, it I'm disposed to become a disturbin' element or goes out to cut loose cantankerous an' dispootatious in another gent's game, have showed him the French experiences that Moscow time is Sunday school excursions compared with these trips the boys makes when on the breath of that blizzard they swings south with their herds. Them yooths, some of 'em, is over eight hundred miles from their home-ranch; an' she's the first an' only time I ever meets up with a Yellowstone brand on the Canadian.
"You-all can put down a bet I'm no idle an' listless looker-on that blizzard time; an' I grows speshul active at the close. It behooves us Red River gents of cattle to stir about. The wild hard-ridin' knight-errants of the rope an' spur who cataracts themse'fs upon us with their driftin' cattle doorin' said tempest looks like they're plenty cap'ble of drivin' our steers no'th with their own, sort o' makin' up the deeficiencies of the storm.
"I brands over four thousand calves the spring before, which means I has at least twenty thousand head,—or five times what I brands—skallihootin' an' hybernatin' about the ranges. An' bein' as you-all notes some strong on cattle, an' not allowin' none for them Yellowstone adventurers to drive any of 'em no'th, I've got about 'leven outfits at work, overhaulin' the herds an' round-ups, an' ridin' round an' through 'em, weedin' out my brand an' throwin' 'em back on my Red River range. I has to do it, or our visitin' Yellowstone guests would have stole me pore as Job's turkey.
"Whatever is a 'outfit' you asks? It's a range boss, a chuck waggon with four mules an' a range cook, two hoss hustlers to hold the ponies, eight riders an' a bunch of about seventy ponies—say seven to a boy. These yere 'leven outfits I speaks of is scattered east an' west mebby she's a-hundred miles along the no'th fringe of my range, a-combin' an' a-searchin' of the bunches an' cuttin' out all specimens of my brand when found. For myse'f, personal, I'm cavortin' about on the loose like, stoppin' some nights at one camp' an' some nights at another, keepin' cases on the deal.
"It's at one of my camps one evenin' when I crosses up first with this yere Hardrobe. His boy, Bloojacket, is with him. Hardrobe himse'f is mebby goin' on fifty, while Bloojacket ain't more'n say twenty-one. Shore, they're out for cattle, too; them savages has a heap of cattle, an' since they finds their brands an' bunches same as the rest of us all tangled up with the Yellowstone aliens doorin' the blizzard, Hardrobe an' his boy Bloojacket rides up an' asks can they work partners with a outfit of mine.
"As I explains previous I'm averse to Injuns, but this Hardrobe is a onusual Injun; an' as he's settin' in ag'inst a stiff game the way things is mixed up, an' bein' only him an' his boy he's too weak to protect himse'f, I yields consent, I yields the more pleasant for fear,—since I drives through the Osage country now an' then—this Hardrobe an' his heir plays even by stampedin' my cattle some evenin' if I don't. Thar's nothin' like a dash of se'f-interest to make a gent urbane, an' so I invites Hardrobe an' Bloojacket to make my camp their headquarters like I'd been yearnin' for the chance.
"As you-all must have long ago tracked up on the information, it's sooperfluous for me to su'gest that a gent gets used to things. Moreover he gets used frequent to things that he's born with notions ag'inst; an' them aversions will simmer an' subside ontil he's friendly with folks he once honed to shoot on sight. It turns out that a-way about me an' this Hardrobe an' his boy Bloojacket. What he'ps, no doubt, is they're capar'soned like folks, with big hats, bloo shirts, trousers, cow-laiggin's, boots an' spurs, fit an' ready to enter a civilised parlour at the drop of the handkerchief. Ceasin' to rope for reasons, however, it's enough to say these savages an' me waxes as thick as m'lasses. Both of 'em's been eddicated at some Injun school which the gov'ment—allers buckin' the impossible, the gov'ment is,—upholds in its vain endeavours to turn red into white an' make folks of a savage.
"Bloojacket is down from the Bad Land country himself not long prior, bein' he's been servin' his Great Father as one of Gen'ral Crook's scouts in the Sittin' Bull campaign. This young Bloojacket,—who's bubblin' over with sperits—has a heap of interestin' stories about the 'Grey Fox.' It's doo to Bloojacket to say he performs them dooties of his as a scout like a clean-strain sport, an' quits an' p'ints back for the paternal camp of Hardrobe in high repoote. Thar's one feat of fast hard ridin' that Injun performs, which I hears from others, an' which you-all might not find oninterestin' if I saws it onto you.
"Merritt with three hundred cavalry marches twenty-five miles one mornin'. Thar's forty Injun scouts along, among 'em this Bloojacket; said copper-hued auxiliaries bein' onder the command of Gen'ral Stanton, as game an' good a gent as ever packs a gun. It's at noon; Merritt an' his outfit camps at the Rawhide Buttes. Thar's a courier from Crook overtakes 'em. He says that word comes trailin' in that the Cheyennes at the Red Cloud agency is makin' war medicine an' about to go swarmin' off to hook up with Sittin' Bull an' Crazy Hoss in the Sioux croosades. Crook tells Merritt to detach a band of his scouts to go flutterin' over to Red Cloud an' take a look at the Cheyennes's hand.
"Stanton tells off four of his savages an' lines out with them for the Red Cloud agency; Bloojacket bein' one. From the Rawhide Buttes to the Red Cloud agency is one hundred even miles as a bullet travels. What makes it more impressive, them one hundred miles is across a trailless country, the same bein' as rocky as Red Dog whiskey an' rough as the life story of a mule. Which Stanton, Bloojacket an' the others makes her in twelve hours even, an' comes up, a crust of dust an' sweat, to the Red Cloud agency at midnight sharp. The Cheyennes has already been gone eight hours over the Great Northern trail.