“No, no! ’Deed Ah ain’t, Billie boy. Ah’s jes’ nachally tickled coz Mars’ Billyum he tell yo’ fadder an’ yo’ mudder yo’s better off ’f yo’ goes ’long—yah! Ah’s jes’ tickled ’s de hoss Hide-rack’d be ’f ’e had fo’ mo’ laigs ter kick wiv; dat’s what Ah is, Billie boy.”
“See hyar, Skibo, ye needn’t go ter hingin’ on Hide-rack’s repertation. ’Taint none ter brag on much, but sech as he has, he’s goin’ ter keep, ef he does play tit-tat-too on er nigger’s trouserloons now an’ ergin.”
“Yah, yah! Mistah Nomad; Ah baigs yeh parding ’f Ah stepped on dat dar Hide-rack’s feelin’s spectatiously an’ superditiously, coz Ah specs his ripertution’s mos’ ’bout ’s bad as it kin be now, fer a fac’—dat’s what Ah t’ink, anyhow.”
“Pa-e-has-ka come; soon see. Make-up-noise,” offered the Piute boy, who had come up and was listening to the usual verbal firing between Buffalo Bill’s pards.
Wild Bill, who had also sauntered along, remained quiet, puffing away at his pipe, but now he hailed the scout, who was coming from the bungalow, with:
“What is the word, Cody—does the boy go?”
The scout nodded with a smile and said to the lad:
“Run in and cheer them up, boy, and we’ll be off.”
Little Buffalo Bill had secured the scout’s permission—if his parents were willing—to accompany him on his new mission.
Buffalo Bill did not urge them to let the boy go, but he assured them he would do his best for the lad’s comfort and safety, if they permitted him to accompany the pards.