“‘Don’t they have no roast dog at that warjig?’ asks Dan Boggs, when I’m relatin’ these reminiscences in the Red Light.

“‘No,’ I says; ‘Osages don’t eat no dogs.’

“‘It’s different with Utes a lot,’ says Dan, ’Which Utes regyards dogs fav’rable, deemin’ ’em a mighty sucyoolent an’ nootritious dish.  The time I’m with the Utes they pulls off a shindig, “tea dance” it is, an’, as what Huggins would call “a star feacher” they ups an’ roasts a white dog.  That canine is mighty plethoric an’ fat, an’ they lays him on his broad, he’pless back an’ shets off his wind with a stick cross-wise of his neck, an’ two bucks pressin’ on the ends.  When he’s good an’ dead an’ all without no suffoosion of blood, the Utes singes his fur off in a fire an’ bakes him as he is.  I partakes of that dog—­some.  I don’t nacherally lay for said repast wide-jawed, full-toothed an’ reemorseless, like it’s flapjacks—­I don’t gorge myse’f none; but when I’m in Rome, I strings my chips with the Romans like the good book says, an’ so I sort o’ eats baked dog with the Utes.  Otherwise, I’d hurt their sens’bilities; an’ I ain’t out to harrow up no entire tribe an’ me playin’ a lone hand.’

“That agent questions Bill as to the war-dance carryin’s on of old Black Dog.  Then he p’ints at Bill’s blankets an’ feathers an’ shakes his head a heap disapprobative.

“‘Shuck them blankets an’ feathers,’ says the agent, ‘an’ get back into your trousers a whole lot; an’ be sudden about it, too.  I puts up with the divers an’ sundry rannikabooisms of old an’ case-hardened Injuns who’s savage an’ ontaught.  But you’re different; you’ve been to school an’ learned the virchoos of pants; wherefore, I looks for you to set examples.’

“It’s then Bill gets high an’ allows he’ll wear clothes to suit himse’f.  Bill denounces trousers as foolish in their construction an’ fallacious in their plan.  Bill declar’s they’re a bad scheme, trousers is; an’ so sayin’ he defies the agent to do his worst.  Bill stands pat on blankets an’ feathers.

“‘Which you will, will you!’ remarks this agent.

“Then he claps Bill in irons mighty decisive, an’ plants him up ag’in the high face of a rock bluff which has been frownin’ down on Bird River since Adam makes his first camp.  Havin’ got Bill posed to his notion, this earnest agent, puttin’ a hammer into Bill’s rebellious hand, starts him to breakin’ rock.

“‘Which the issue is pants,’ says the obdurate agent sport; ‘an’ I’ll keep you-all whackin’ away at them boulders while the cliff lasts onless you yields.  Thar’s none of you young bucks goin’ to bluff me, an’ that’s whatever!’

“Bill breaks rocks two days.  The other Osages comes an’ perches about, sympathetic, an’ surveys Bill.  They exhorts him to be firm; they gives it out in Osage he’s a patriot.