Henry. Meaning Indians?  My love, I respect them and admire them—­at a distance; but, plain or coloured, I cannot admit that they would be decorative as furniture—­even in your drawing-room!

    [EMILY endures him in silence.

Orator. A party of Women of the Ogallalla Tribe!

[Illustration:  “I am perfectly aware of that, Euphemia!”]

    [Three mounted Indian ladies in blankets—­walk their horses
    slowly round the Arena, crooning “Aye-eia-ha-ya-hee-hi-ya!”
    with every sign of enjoying their own performance.

A Poetical Lady. What strange wild singing it is, JOHN!  There’s something so creepy about it, somehow.

John (a prosaic but frivolous person).  There is, indeed.  It explains one thing I never quite understood before, though.

The Poetical Lady. I thought it would impress you—­but what does it explain?

John. The reason why the buffalo in those parts has so entirely died out.

A Rigid Matron (during the Emigrant Train Scene).  I don’t care to see a girl ride in that bold way myself.  I’m sure it must be so unsexing for them.  And what is she about now, with that man?  They’re actually having a duel with knives—­on horseback too! not at all a nice thing for any young girl to do.  There! she’s pulled out a pistol and shot him—­and galloped off as if nothing had happened!  I have always heard that American girls were allowed a good deal of liberty—­but I’d really no idea they went as far as this!  I should be sorry indeed to see any girl of mine (here the glances instructively at three dumpy and dough-faced Daughters) acting in that forward and most unfeminine manner. (Reassuringly.) But I’m very sure there’s no fear of that, is there, dears?

    [The Daughters repudiate with gratifying unanimity any desire
    to shoot gentlemen on horseback.

A Bloodthirsty Boy (as the hostile Indians attack the train).  Will the Indians scalp anybody, Uncle?

His Uncle. No, my boy, they don’t let ’em get near enough for that, you see! [The Indians are ignominiously chased off by Cowboys.

The Boy (disappointed).  They’d a splendid chance of scalping the Orator that time—­and not one of them even saw it!

Orator. Captain JACK BURTZ, of the United States Army, will now give you an example of his phenomenal Lightning Drill.

[The Captain takes up his position with an air of fierce resolution, and proceeds to do wonderful things with a rifle and fixed bayonet, which he treats with a familiarity bordering on contempt.

A Lady (to a Military Friend—­as the Captain twirls the rifle rapidly round his neck).  Have you ever seen anyone drill like that before?