"I presume, stranger, you accompany the Cheyennes when they go out on war parties, as you say that you have turned warrior."
The reply was:
"When they go out 'gainst t'other Injins, I do; but when they hunt white men's hair, I am allowed to stay behind. This was one of the stip'lations when I took a squaw and jined the tribe."
"Oh ho! that is the way you manage!" exclaimed the wag.
"Yes! and I've bin the means of saving some scalps for my race too, fur the Injins believe in me, they do," continued the fellow.
The wag resumed—
"Perhaps, stranger, you have heard of Kit Carson. It is said he is on the prairies somewhere, either dead or alive."
The fellow answered:
"You've got me! Know Kit Carson! I reckon I do. It is strange that you should ask me that, when Kit was the very last man I laid eyes on as I left our tribe."
Here the fellow lowered his voice and said, as if exemplifying sympathy.