“Yes, that is what it was.  They are very rare, the reptiles; very few left, now-a-days.”

“Is that so?  What is a reptile?”

“It is a plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium that hasn’t any wings and is uncertain.”

“Well, it—­it sounds fine, it surely does.”

“And it is fine.  You may be thankful you are one.”

“I am.  It seems wonderfully grand and elegant for a person that is so humble as I am; but I am thankful, I am indeed, and will try to live up to it.  It is hard to remember.  Will you say it again, please, and say it slow?”

“Plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium that hasn’t any wings and is uncertain.”

“It is beautiful, anybody must grant it; beautiful, and of a noble sound.  I hope it will not make me proud and stuck-up—­I should not like to be that.  It is much more distinguished and honorable to be a reptile than a dog, don’t you think, Soldier?”

“Why, there’s no comparison.  It is awfully aristocratic.  Often a duke is called a reptile; it is set down so, in history.”

“Isn’t that grand!  Potter wouldn’t ever associate with me, but I reckon he’ll be glad to when he finds out what I am.”

“You can depend upon it.”

“I will thank Mongrel for this.  He is a very good sort, for a Mexican Plug.  Don’t you think he is?”

“It is my opinion of him; and as for his birth, he cannot help that.  We cannot all be reptiles, we cannot all be fossils; we have to take what comes and be thankful it is no worse.  It is the true philosophy.”

“For those others?”

“Stick to the subject, please.  Did it turn out that my suspicions were right?”

“Yes, perfectly right.  Mongrel has heard them planning.  They are after BB’s life, for running them out of Medicine Bow and taking their stolen horses away from them.”

“Well, they’ll get him yet, for sure.”

“Not if he keeps a sharp look-out.”

“He keep a sharp lookout!  He never does; he despises them, and all their kind.  His life is always being threatened, and so it has come to be monotonous.”

“Does he know they are here?”

“Oh yes, he knows it.  He is always the earliest to know who comes and who goes.  But he cares nothing for them and their threats; he only laughs when people warn him.  They’ll shoot him from behind a tree the first he knows.  Did Mongrel tell you their plans?”

“Yes.  They have found out that he starts for Fort Clayton day after to-morrow, with one of his scouts; so they will leave to-morrow, letting on to go south, but they will fetch around north all in good time.”

“Shekels, I don’t like the look of it.”

CHAPTER VIII—­THE SCOUT-START.  BB AND LIEUTENANT-GENERAL ALISON

BB (saluting).  “Good! handsomely done!  The Seventh couldn’t beat it!  You do certainly handle your Rangers like an expert, General.  And where are you bound?”