"Some."
"Some what?" Bob broke in.
In spite of himself a grin appeared on Slim's good natured face and the ice began to thaw again.
"Some Indians and they're some civilized."
"Do you ever shoot them?" Jack asked.
Slim turned his head with a sudden jerk. He had the notion that the boy was trying to kid him, but Jack's face was perfectly sober.
"Wal-l," he drawled, "yer know they're under the protection of the government an' they fine us two bits apiece for every one we shoot and that makes it some expensive as a sport so we don't shoot more'n about a dozen or so a day."
"I guess you didn't get me," Jack laughed. "I meant snakes, not Indians."
"Oh, snakes. Why bless yer soul, just day afore yesterday we shipped three barrels o' snake oil fer the second time in a week and there's about a spoonful ter a snake."
Slim's face was perfectly straight as he made the statement and Bob gave Jack a sly wink as a signal to swallow the story.