Buffalo Bill sat near, coolly watching him, and keeping him covered with his revolver, and noticing the rapid work of the outlaw, he said:
“I guess you were sexton for some graveyard, Ginger Sam, before you took to thieving?”
“Thet are jist what I were, Bill Cody,” replied the man, stopping in his work.
“And you took to robbing by night the people you buried by day, and got caught at it, I guess, so had to dig for the West?”
“Waal, you hits things pretty squar’, Bill Cody, fer they did plant a leddy in my yard one day, thet were durned fool enough ter leave it in her will thet she were ter be buried in her di’mints an’ t’other jew’lry.
“I know’d ther kin folks w’u’d dig her up some night, ef I didn’t, so I did, an’ them as was comin’ ter do it seen me, an’ I jist hed ter light out from them parts.”
“Well, you look the ghoul you are: but go on with your work, for life’s too short to listen to your sins, old man!”
The ex-sexton resumed his work, with a sigh, and soon had an opening which brought from the scout the remark:
“No Injun could wish for more than that, Ginger Sam, and you are the boss gravedigger of the Big Horn, whatever your other sins may be. Now wrap that Injun in his blanket and lay him in it.”
“Won’t yer scalp him?”