“Yet you make no murmur; offer no complaint!”
“What use? Joe him come with Injun Heart. Him know it be hard for Injun Heart. Why him make it wuss?”
“Joe, Joe! you are so good! You think of me, not of yourself! And still you tell me to forget Felicia and my dear home!”
Crowfoot gravely lighted his pipe, puffing forth big whiffs of smoke, and then threw the burning match upon the carpet. Dick quickly picked it up and tossed it in a cuspidor.
“Joe him your friend,” said the old fellow. “You know.”
“I have thought you my friend—I know, Joe. You have been my friend. But you love the great West, where there is plenty of room. You feel the awful crowding of the city.”
“Steady Hand him your broder.”
“Yes, but he is used to all this; I am not. With me it is different. And what you told me is true, Joe—what you told me of the men of the East. They are not big, and strong, and healthy; they dress in fine clothes, wear high collars, and look weak. They are all striving to become rich. That is all they think about. And it costs so much money to live here!”
“Heap big lot,” nodded Joe.