Inza was impulsive.
“Oh, Mr. Carver!” she exclaimed; “I want to thank you.”
The man looked surprised.
“What for?” he asked.
“Frank—er—Mr. Merriwell says you would have protected me from that horrid Indian at the station yesterday, and he says you were determined to shoot the Indian afterward, but refrained because you did not care to shock ladies.”
“Mr. Merriwell is very kind to put it that way,” said Dan Carver.
“I was so agitated that I could not tell what was taking place. I am sure you were very kind.”
“In not shooting the Injun? Yes, I reckon I was. Ordinarily I’d filled him full of lead. That’s the only way to let the devilment out of them dogs.”
“Oh, but it is awful!” exclaimed the girl. “I suppose there are some real bad Indians.”
“Some! Well, I should warble! Excuse me, miss. They are all bad—every one of them!”