“I do.”
“Well, you do look as if you could get away with a big horn.”
“Look a-hyur, stranger pard, is yer pokin’ fun at me?” angrily asked the man.
“No, you are pokin’ that old gun at me,” was the cool response.
“Who is you, anyhow?” asked the man, struck with the superb bearing and handsome, fearless face of the scout.
“Sitting Bull,” answered Bill, most innocently.
“Do yer take me fer a fool?”
“Like as not you are one of the renegades said to belong to his tribe,” was the bold remark of the scout.
“No, but I are friendly with ther Injuns.”