“I vill gif you nodings. Go to your own cigar-store und get it.”
The big Indian must have had a fine sense of humor, as he said, pointing to the bony horse that was drinking as if he would never stop, with a majestic wave of his hand:
“Big chief got fast horse.”
“Fast! I dink so. He didn’t eat nodings put dust for two veeks—only a little oatses, und stickses, vot dey calls crass out here.”
“Chief better tie horse. He run away.”
“Don’t pe afrait. You vant to puy him?”
“Injun no buy horse. Injun got fast ponies. No can beat.”
“Mein horse is fast, too—ven he is tied to de ground.”
“Injun race ponies ’gainst horse for firewater and tobac.”
“No, sir!” said Morris, grandly. “I don’t vant to rob you. Mein horse is faster as a railroad train—on a siding.”