"Over the Platte . . . after blindfolding them."
"What! do you want the earth?" I exclaimed. "Only before dinner I paid two dollars to have this donkey shod. I don't intend to pay two dollars more to shoe your animal."
The lad replied "All right," and galloped away, but had only gone a short distance when I hailed him. He came back without hesitation, and I then concluded a bargain. It was agreed that a blacksmith should take the new shoes off Cheese and put them on his donkey, and that I should pay him three dollars to boot. An hour later Cheese V was shod, bridled and saddled, and that afternoon became Coonskin's mount, Damfino carrying the principal portion of our luggage, and Mac A'Rony his master.
My party reached the Reservation in time for me to meet the Indian teacher before he left school, my courier having wheeled ahead to announce my coming.
I was greeted warmly when I presented the Mayor's letter, was shown some of the lodges of the tribe, and made acquainted with a few of the foremost braves of the camp. The teacher was an admirable interpreter, and the Indians grunted approvingly at meeting such a noted personage as Professor Pye Pod.
A fat old buck named Ne-tah-twy-tuck (old one), on being presented, extended me his hand, muttering, "How do?" His grip almost mashed my fingers.
"Much dog," he observed, eyeing my pack with doubtful admiration.
"Yes, too much," I replied; "I want to visit Me-tah-ah-qua, your great chief, and give him a heap of dogs." The Indian grinned majestically, while his teacher turned his head to control his risibles.
"Make pleasant?" the redskin grunted, and shook his head disapprovingly. "Me-tah-ah-qua say no dog good—old—make tough soup." And the brave pinched one of the mongrels, causing such a ky-eying that my interpreter feared it would put the whole camp on the war-path.