“As I observes,” he resumed, following a considerable pause which I was jealous to guard against word or question of my own; “I tells this tale to Colonel Sterett, Old Man Enright, an’ the others one time when we’re restin’ from them Wolfville labours of ours an’ renooin’ our strength with nosepaint in the Red Light bar.  Jest as you does now, Dan Boggs takes up this question of luck where Cherokee Hall abandons it, an’ likewise the subject of savages where Texas Thompson lays ’em down, an’ after conj’inin’ the two in fashions I deems a heap weak, allows that luck is confined strictly to the paleface; aborigines not knowin’ sufficient to become the target of vicissitoodes, excellent or otherwise.

“‘Injuns is too ignorant to have what you-all calls “luck,"’ says Dan.  ’That gent who’s to be affected either up or down by “luck” has got to have some mental cap’bilities.  An’ as Injuns don’t answer sech deescriptions, they ain’t no more open to “luck” than to enlight’ment.  “Luck” an’ Injuns when took together, is preepost’rous!  It’s like talkin’ of a sycamore tree havin’ luck.  Gents, it ain’t in the deck!’ An’ tharupon Dan seals his views by demandin’ of Black Jack the bottle with glasses all ’round.

“‘When it comes to that, Boggs,’ says Colonel Sterett, as he does Dan honour in four fingers of Valley Tan, ‘an’ talkin’ of luck, I’m yere to offer odds that the most poignant hard-luck story on the list is the story of Injuns as a race.  An’ I won’t back-track their game none further than Columbus at that.  The savages may have found life a summer’s dream prior to the arrival of that Eytalian mariner an’ the ornery Spainiards he surrounds himse’f with.  But from the looks of the tabs, the deal since then has gone ag’inst ’em.  The Injuns don’t win once.  White folks, that a-way, is of themse’fs bad luck incarnate to Injuns.  The savage never so much as touches ’em or listens to ’em or imitates ’em, but he rots down right thar.  Which the pale-face shorely kills said Injuns on the nest! as my old grand-dad used to say.’

“‘When I recalls the finish of Hardrobe,’ I remarks, sort o’ cuttin’ into the argyment, the same bein’ free an’ open to all, ‘an’ I might add by way of a gratootity in lines of proof, the finish of his boy, Bloojacket, I inclines to string my chips with Colonel Sterett.’

“‘Give us the details concernin’ this Hardrobe,’ says Doc Peets.  ’For myse’f, I’m prone an’ eager to add to my information touchin’ Injuns at every openin’.’

“As Enright an’ the rest makes expression sim’lar, I proceeds to onbuckle.  I don’t claim much for the tale neither.  Still, I wouldn’t copper it none for it’s the trooth, an’ the trooth should allers be played ‘open’ every time.  I’ll tell you-all this Hardrobe story as I onfolds it to them.”

It was here my friend began looking about with a vaguely anxious eye.  I saw his need and pressed the button.

“I was aimin’ to summon my black boy, Tom,” he said.