“’When the Raven was dead, the Squaw-who-has-dreams went to the secret place an’ threw the powder of the whirlwind into the Big-Muddy; an’ after that she distributed her fourteen bundles of talk that were left among all the Sioux so that everybody could tell how glad he felt because the Raven was twisted and died.  An’ for a week there was nothing but happiness an’ big talk among the Sioux; an’ Moh-kwa, the Bear, came laughing out of his canyon with the wonder of listening to it; while the Squaw-who-has-dreams now, when her revenge was done, went with When-dee-goo, the Giant, to his teepee and became his squaw.  So now everything was ended save the Story-that-never-ends.’

“When Sioux Sam gets this far,” concluded the Old Cattleman, “he says, ‘an’ my mother’s words at the end were:  “An’ boys who ask too many questions will die, as did the Raven whose cur’osity was even greater than his cruelty."’”

CHAPTER V.

The Queerness of Dave Tutt.

“Which these queernesses of Dave’s,” observed the Old Cattleman, “has already been harrowin’ an’ harassin’ up the camp for mighty likely she’s two months, when his myster’ous actions one evenin’ in the Red Light brings things to a climax, an’ a over-strained public, feelin’ like it can b’ar no more, begins to talk.

“It’s plumb easy to remember this Red Light o’casion, for jest prior to Dave alarmin’ us by becomin’ melodious, furtive—­melody bein’ wholly onnacheral to Dave, that a-way—­thar’s a callow pin-feather party comes caperin’ in an’ takin’ Old Man Enright one side, asks can he yootilise Wolfville as a strategic p’int in a elopement he’s goin’ to pull off.

“‘Which I’m out to elope a whole lot from Tucson,’ explains this pin-feather party to Enright, ‘an’ I aims to cinch the play.  I’m a mighty cautious sport, an’ before ever I hooks up for actooal freightin’ over any trail, I rides her once or twice to locate wood and water, an’ pick out my camps.  Said system may seem timorous, but it’s shore safer a heap.  So I asks ag’in whether you-all folks has any objections to me elopin’ into Wolfville with my beloved, like I suggests.  I ain’t out to spring no bridals on a onprotected outfit, wherefore I precedes the play with these queries.’

“‘But whatever’s the call for you to elope at all?’ remonstrates Enright.  ’The simple way now would be to round up this lady’s paternal gent, an’ get his consent.’

“‘Seein’ the old gent,’ says the pin-feather party, ’’speshully when you lays it smoothly off like that, shore does seem simplicity itse’f.  But if you was to prance out an’ try it some, it would be found plenty complex.  See yere!’ goes on the pin-feather party, beginnin’ to roll up his sleeve, ’you-all impresses me as more or less a jedge of casyooalities.  Whatever now do you think of this?  ‘An’ the pin-feather party exhibits a bullet wound in his left fore-arm, the same bein’ about half healed.