“By the way, Mr. Smith,” said Mrs. M’Duffy, “your claim rests, I think you said, upon the fact that you were scalped? Your head has not that appearance.”
“Oh, no! You see, madam, that in the lapse of years the wound has healed; a new scalp has gradually formed, so that now I appear to be merely bald. I have the original scalp at home in my trunk.”
“How very interesting. Were you ever scalped, General?”
“No, ma’am, never. My custom has been to take scalps, not to lose them.”
“The General is an old Indian fighter,” observed Achilles.
“I was not aware of the fact,” said Mrs. M’Duffy. “You are familiar therefore with the plains. Did you ever visit the Pottawatomie Reservation—Mr. Smith’s prospective property?”
“Frequently, ma’am. It’s the handsomest tract of ground east of the Rocky Mountains.”
“You propose to live on it, when you get it, do you not, Mr. Smith?”
“On part of it. Half goes to the General; then I shall reserve 5000 acres for myself and dispose of the remainder to settlers. If I am successful in my suit with your daughter I shall build a house in the centre of my 5000 acres, and we will live there. We shall have plenty of elbow-room. She can paint pictures as big as all out-of-doors, and bigger.”
“Pandora is so fond of the open country.”