Braden addressed the ceiling, his fat hands outspread. "No one here was talkin' railroad, no one here was talkin' railroad?" he mimicked.
"—So I didn't put much stock in your letter."
"You didn't, eh?" Braden searched a coat-pocket, found a newspaper clipping and thrust it under Matthews' nose. "Well, read that."
"Read it yourself," said Matthews. "You know blamed well——"
Braden interrupted him by beginning. He lowered his voice, and intoned, giving the interpreter a glance designed to wilt him with the words that called for stress:
"'The proposed line will open up a country of rich grasses and ground and of unexcelled hunting. The Indians, while still troublesome beyond the Missouri, are rapidly being brought to see the advisability of remaining on the reservations, and little more annoyance on their part may be apprehended. Fort Brannon, he declares, is in the hands of several hundred brave fighting men and may be looked upon as a place of certain refuge in case of an outbreak. The soldiers are proving to be such a menace to those Indians who will not agree to reservation life, that whole bands of the more savage redskins are leaving for the Bad Lands and the rougher country farther west. No Indian war-parties have been seen east of the big river for some time. Already there is an increasing interest in land along the survey. And it is believed that when the last ties of the new line are laid there will be few unclaimed quarter-sections between the Big Sioux and the Missouri.'
"There!" Braden wound up. "And gradin' begun already at the Mississippi."
"The h—l you say!"
"Believe me now, won't you? Didn't they have a bankquit with champagney? All the State big-bugs, head surveyor, and so on?"
"Too bad!"