"She's a good girl," said Stark, musingly, in a gentle tone that Runnion had never heard before.
"Getting kind of mushy, ain't you? I thought you had passed that stage, old man."
"No, I don't like her in that way."
"Well, I do, and I'm dead sore on that soldier."
"She's not your kind," said Stark. "A bad man can't hold a good woman; he can win one easy enough, but he can't keep her. I know!"
"Nobody but a fool would want to keep one," Runnion replied, "specially a squaw."
"She's just woke up to the fact that she is a squaw and isn't as good as white. She's worried."
"I'll lay you a little eight to five that Burrell has thrown her down," chuckled Runnion.
"I never thought of that. You may be right."
"If it's true I'll shuffle up a hand for that soldier."