“What shall we call the boy for short?” asked the scout.
“‘Make-um-noise’ plenty short for him,” said Cayuse.
“‘Billie,’” said Skibo, “then we hab Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill, an’ Billie.”
“We are getting too many Bills and not enough receipts,” said the scout.
“Why not call him ‘Tootsie,’ in honor of his profession?” asked the Laramie man.
“Good!” was the chorus, and “Tootsie, the boy bugler,” stuck to the boy from that day.
At noon the party halted the horses to graze an hour, and all the others found that “Tootsie” had regained his usual demeanor and was the life of the party. His new name amused him, but he accepted it with good grace, and sang, after pulling his bugle from his saddle horn:
When Indians get funny just give ’em a toot
And send ’em a-whoopin’ an’ crazy;
But when you want noises, why call the galoot