Indian.  Once, when he was wrangling horses for us during the beef-shipping season, we passed him off for an Indian on some dining-room girls.  George Wall was working with us that year, and had gone in ahead to see about the cars and find out when we could pen and the like.  We had to drive to the State line, then, to ship.  George took dinner at the best hotel in the town, and asked one of the dining-room girls if he might bring in an Indian to supper the next evening.  They didn’t know, so they referred him to the landlord.  George explained to that auger, who, not wishing to offend us, consented.  There were about ten girls in the dining-room, and they were on the lookout for the Indian.  The next night we penned a little before dark.  Not a man would eat at the wagon; every one rode for the hotel.  We fixed Bill up in fine shape, put feathers in his hair, streaked his face with red and yellow, and had him all togged out in buckskin, even to moccasins.  As we entered the dining-room, George led him by the hand, assuring all the girls that he was perfectly harmless.  One long table accommodated us all.  George, who sat at the head with our Indian on his right, begged the girls not to act as though they were afraid; he might notice it.  Wall fed him pickles and lump sugar until the supper was brought on.  Then he pushed back his chair about four feet, and stared at the girls like an idiot.  When George ordered him to eat, he stood up at the table.  When he wouldn’t let him stand, he took the plate on his knee, and ate one side dish at a time.  Finally, when he had eaten everything that suited his taste, he stood up and signed with his hands to the group of girls, muttering, ‘Wo-haw, wo-haw.’

“‘He wants some more beef,’ said Wall.  ‘Bring him some more beef.’  After a while he stood up and signed again, George interpreting his wants to the dining-room girls:  ’Bring him some coffee.  He’s awful fond of coffee.’

“That supper lasted an hour, and he ate enough to kill a horse.  As we left the dining-room, he tried to carry away a sugar-bowl, but Wall took it away from him.  As we passed out George turned back and apologized to the girls, saying, ’He’s a good Injun.  I promised him he might eat with us.  He’ll talk about this for months now.  When he goes back to his tribe he’ll tell his squaws all about you girls feeding him.’”

“Seems like I remember that fellow Wall,” said Bradshaw, meditating.

“Why, of course you do.  Weren’t you with us when we voted the bonds to the railroad company?” asked Edwards.

“No, never heard of it; must have been after I left.  What business did you have voting bonds?”

“Tell him, Coon.  I’m too full for utterance,” said Edwards.