“It’s at one of my camps one evenin’ when I crosses up first with this yere Hardrobe.  His boy, Bloojacket, is with him.  Hardrobe himse’f is mebby goin’ on fifty, while Bloojacket ain’t more’n say twenty-one.  Shore, they’re out for cattle, too; them savages has a heap of cattle, an’ since they finds their brands an’ bunches same as the rest of us all tangled up with the Yellowstone aliens doorin’ the blizzard, Hardrobe an’ his boy Bloojacket rides up an’ asks can they work partners with a outfit of mine.

“As I explains previous I’m averse to Injuns, but this Hardrobe is a onusual Injun; an’ as he’s settin’ in ag’inst a stiff game the way things is mixed up, an’ bein’ only him an’ his boy he’s too weak to protect himse’f, I yields consent, I yields the more pleasant for fear,—­since I drives through the Osage country now an’ then—­this Hardrobe an’ his heir plays even by stampedin’ my cattle some evenin’ if I don’t.  Thar’s nothin’ like a dash of se’f-interest to make a gent urbane, an’ so I invites Hardrobe an’ Bloojacket to make my camp their headquarters like I’d been yearnin’ for the chance.

“As you-all must have long ago tracked up on the information, it’s sooperfluous for me to su’gest that a gent gets used to things.  Moreover he gets used frequent to things that he’s born with notions ag’inst; an’ them aversions will simmer an’ subside ontil he’s friendly with folks he once honed to shoot on sight.  It turns out that a-way about me an’ this Hardrobe an’ his boy Bloojacket.  What he’ps, no doubt, is they’re capar’soned like folks, with big hats, bloo shirts, trousers, cow-laiggin’s, boots an’ spurs, fit an’ ready to enter a civilised parlour at the drop of the handkerchief.  Ceasin’ to rope for reasons, however, it’s enough to say these savages an’ me waxes as thick as m’lasses.  Both of ’em’s been eddicated at some Injun school which the gov’ment—­allers buckin’ the impossible, the gov’ment is,—­upholds in its vain endeavours to turn red into white an’ make folks of a savage.

“Bloojacket is down from the Bad Land country himself not long prior, bein’ he’s been servin’ his Great Father as one of Gen’ral Crook’s scouts in the Sittin’ Bull campaign.  This young Bloojacket,—­who’s bubblin’ over with sperits—­has a heap of interestin’ stories about the ’Grey Fox.’  It’s doo to Bloojacket to say he performs them dooties of his as a scout like a clean-strain sport, an’ quits an’ p’ints back for the paternal camp of Hardrobe in high repoote.  Thar’s one feat of fast hard ridin’ that Injun performs, which I hears from others, an’ which you-all might not find oninterestin’ if I saws it onto you.