"Before we begin our chat, let's shake hands?"
"Certain—shore—"
The brawny hand clasped his.
"I want you to know," the young officer continued earnestly, "my real feelings toward you and your men. I've been out here four years with you fellows, pushing the flag into the wilderness, and the more I see of you the better I like you. I know real men when I see them. You're strong, generous, brave, and you do things. You're building a great republic on this frontier of the world. I've known your hospitality. You've had little education in the schools, but you're trained for this big work in the only school that counts out here—the School of Danger and Struggle and Experience—"
The brawny hand was lifted in a helpless sort of protest:
"Look a here, Boy, you're goin' ter bamboozle me, I kin jist feel it in my bones—"
"On the other hand," the Lieutenant continued eagerly, "I assure you I am going to treat you and your friends with the profoundest respect. It's due you. Let's reason this thing out. You've taken up these mines under the old right of first discovery—"
"Yes, and they're ours, too,"—the lean jaws came together with a snap.
"So I say. But it will take a little time and a little patience to establish your claims. The Indian, you know, holds the first rights to this land—"
"T'ell with Injuns!"