the skin—­everywhere, clinging to the hubs and spokes of the wheels, without being disturbed by movement, incrusting the cavalryman from his high boots to the crossed sabres of his cap; going off in small puffs like explosions under the plunging hoofs of the horses, but too heavy to rise and follow them.  A reeking smell of horse sweat and boot leather that lingered in the road long after the train had passed.  An external silence broken only by the cough of a jaded horse in the suffocating dust, or the cracking of harness leather.  Within one of the wagons that seemed a miracle of military neatness and methodical stowage, a lazy conversation carried on by a grizzled driver and sunbrowned farrier.

“‘Who be you?’ sezee.  ‘I’m Philip Atherly, a member of Congress,’ sez the long, dark-complected man, sezee, ’and I’m on a commission for looking into this yer Injin grievance,’ sezee.  ’You may be God Almighty,’ sez Nebraska Bill, sezee, ’but you look a d—­d sight more like a hoss-stealin’ Apache, and we don’t want any of your psalm-singing, big-talkin’ peacemakers interferin’ with our ways of treatin’ pizen,—­you hear me?  I’m shoutin’,’ sezee.  With that the dark-complected man’s eyes began to glisten, and he sorter squirmed all over to get at Bill, and Bill outs with his battery.—­Whoa, will ye; what’s up with you now?” The latter remark was directed to the young spirited near horse he was driving, who was beginning to be strangely excited.

“What happened then?” said the farrier lazily.

“Well,” continued the driver, having momentarily quieted his horse, “I reckoned it was about time for me to wheel into line, for fellers of the Bill stripe, out on the plains, would ez leave plug a man in citizen’s clothes, even if he was the President himself, as they would drop on an Injin or a nigger.  ‘Look here, Bill,’ sez I, ‘I’m escortin’ this stranger under gov’ment orders, and I’m responsible for him.  I ain’t allowed to waste gov’ment powder and shot on your kind onless I’ve orders, but if you’ll wait till I strip off this shell* I’ll lam the stuffin’ outer ye, afore the stranger.’  With that Bill just danced with rage, but dassent fire, for he knew, and I knew, that if he’d plugged me he’d been a dead frontiersman afore the next mornin’.”

     * Cavalry jacket.

“But you’d have had to give him up to the authorities, and a jury of his own kind would have set him free.”

“Not much!  If you hadn’t just joined, you’d know that ain’t the way o’ 30th Cavalry,” returned the driver.  “The kernel would have issued his orders to bring in Bill dead or alive, and the 30th would have managed to bring him in dead!  Then your jury might have sat on him!  Tell you what, chaps of the Bill stripe don’t care overmuch to tackle the yaller braid."*

     * Characteristic trimming of cavalry jacket.

“But what’s this yer Congressman interferin’ for, anyway?”