'•HIS ABM GOES BACK FOB A MIGHTY CAST OE THE IiAMTGE, THE WEEPON VTBEAITT WITH THE VEBY SPERIT OF HATE"
double his gyards an' look out for . him
se'f. The Gray Fox, who realizes that
the day of peace has ended an' .the sun
gone down' to rise on a mornin* of trouble,
fills the rattlesnake skin with' cartridges
an' sends 'em back with a word to Co
chise to turn hlms'ef loose. From that
moment the war-jig which Is to last for
years Is on. After Cochise come Geron
imo, an' after Geronimo comes Nana; an'
one an" all, they adds a heap of .spice to
life in Arizona. It'a no exaggeration to
track up on* any sim'lar weaknesses
among the palefaces, an' you all can put
down a stack on that.
" It's when I'm paymaster,' says the
Gen'ral, reachln' for the canteen, 'an'; I
starts forth from Fort Apache on a ex
pedition to pay off "the nearby troops.
I've got slx^wagons an' a escort of twen
ty men. For myse'f, at the r'ar of the
procession, I Journeys proudly in a am
b'lance.~"Our first . camp is goin' to.be on
top of the mesa out a handful of miles
from the fort.- ... • ¦ "¦ ; .
"'The word goes along , the ; line to ob-.
serve "la heap of, caution'an' not straggle
or go rummagln' about permlscus, for the
mountains is alive with hostiles. It's flve^
for one that a frownin' cloud: of 'em. is
hangin' on our flanks' from the moment
we breaks into the foothills. N|b, they'd
be. a-foot; ''the Apaches ain't hoss-back
Injuns an' are only fond of steeds as food.
He never rides on a corral full' of ponies
if you'll furnish 'em an' liok one, a
Apacha don't, but he'llrcamp down an'
eat .up .his lips in thankfulness tharfore.
But' bein* afoot wont hinder 'em from
keepin' up with my caravan/' for In the
mountains the sndw is to the wagon fieda,
ah' the best we can do is to wiggle along
the trail like a hurt snake at a gait which
wouldn't tire a papoose.
• ".. 'We've been ; pushin' on our windin',
uphill way for mighty likely half a day,
and I'm beginnin'— so dooms slow is our
progress— to despair , getting out on "top
of the mesa' before dark, when to put
BY MRS. E. P. SCHELL.
OVE of the questions which is prob
ably asked most often in whist by
the student Is, Is it permissible
to lead a "singleton"? To answer
*P" S this question intelligently is truly
most difficult. Who of us is there
that has not been tempted at some time
to digress f com rule and lead a "single
ton"? If It works we pat ourselves on
the back and say "well done"; when
it fails (which it does more often than
not) and our partner proceeds at once
to draw the trumps, and with a look of
satisfaction sends back a strengthening
card of our supposed suit (much to our
mutual discomfiture),, and our opponents
make their suit,,, no words can express
our humility, and in self-satisfaction we
say "'You might have known it was a "sin
gleton," and that I wanted to mak-» my
small trumps." . It, is certainly true that
the" single card lead is "tabooed" on all
sides by the long-suiter, and a great deal
has been both said and written by whist
players and writers upon the subject of
leading singletons, j Of course the long
suit authorities condemn the play, as
suming that a partner will lead trumps
\and after exhausting them will return
) the 'lead, imagining it from your
strong suit. Strange to say, nothing has
been written to prove* that the lead of
the "singleton" itself, is a losing play,
but that the losses ' which occur are
partner's mistakes. In assuming that the
lead . was from strength, and thereupon
drawing the trumps. Here Is what some
of the great authorities>have to say upon
the subject. James Clay says: "Partner
never t knows what to expect, and prob
ably being strong in trumps, and re
turns" which he has reason to believe to
be his partner's suit, and finds him with
"none of it. Or it may be, suspecting a
¦ singleton, when it is really a long suit,
' he does not play, the trump, when he
otherwise would have done so." Cav
endish says: "Your partner, if strong in
trumps, will very likely, draw yours and
then return 'your lead, imagining you
lead from strength. If indeed he is a
very shrewd player he will, after being
taken in once or, twice, accommodate his
game to yours, but he will never be sure
of the character of - your lead." Pem
liridge says: "Never lead a singleton
unless you are strong enough In trumps
to defeat any attempt, either of your ad
versaries or your partner,, to get them
out, In which case it might be as well to
Jead them* yourself."
Dr. ' Pole, the " father of the long-suit
theory,' admits that the 'choice between
the ruffing game and the long-suit game
'is 'not very' clear, and it Is by no means
easy to prove which of them, if pursued
'systematically, would, in the' long run,
prove most advantageous. But'he decides
that the long-suit ; system adapts itself
more favorably and conveniently to tho
combination of the hands, because it
would not always happen that your hand
. contained *a singleton. You might have
**none,)or two or three of the suits; hence
there ' would i be no . uniformity to your
opening. It would be equivocal and would
consequently give your partner no inform
ation-.--»Mathew« says: "As I have ven
tured to recommend occasional deviation
from what is considered one of the most
classic maxims, that is, . leading" from
single cards without that strength in
trumps hitherto Judged indispensably
necessary to Justify it, I give the reasons
that' Influence my. opinion In favor of this
practice, with . these generally alleged
against it, leaving': the reader to deter
mine , between them. Two objections are
made which it cannot be 'denied may. and
do happen. . The first, that if your part
ner has the king of the suit guarded and
the ace behind it he loses It, which would .
not .be the case If the lead 'came from i
the adversary. The second and the most
material is that your partner. lf<he wins"
the trick, may lead out trumps, on the
supposltion.it Is your strong suit, or the
adversities, from ' suspecting your inten
tions. ' I
"On thv contrary. ' constant and certain
AN EASY LESSON
IN WHIST.
advantages are the preservation of the
tenace In the other two suits, which I
suppose you have, and the probable one
of making your small trumps, which you
swould not otherwise do."
H» also recommends, "Do not lead from
a single card unless you are very strong
in trumps, and occasionally may be led
with great though not certain advantage.*"
After summing it up, the great danger
of the singleton lead seems to be from.
partners misunderstanding it, and their
disability of detecting short-suit leads.
Care should be taken that the single-card
Ieat. should be a good supporting card,
or if the card is small enough to be
taken for a regular lead, you should be
well protected by a strong trump suit, so
you may be prepared for either a return
of the suit or a trump lead.
With at least three or four cards In
each of the plain suits, headed by a
tenace or single honors, a singleton trunm
will usually be the best lead, forcing your
opponents to open your suits.
After all, you had better let the op
ponents open your single-card suit, as
they are usually on the alert to profit by
your confessed weakness.
A whist band by Cavendish:
NORTH.
?.-&,. w . 3 . 5 \ 3 . ?•:£• •"•"•••••
B.-10, 8, 6. 5. 4. D.-K. J. 2.
SOUTH.
S.-8. 7, 6.
H.— K, 10. 7, 6, 2.
C— 6.
D.-Q. 0, 7. 3.
Three of spades trumps In West's hand.
Tk. W N. e a
1 3s -As 4s - ta
- 3c J S • Kg 7s
- d *Qs 9s 8s
7 Ih M h - 3n 2h
s ra '^ 2<J ?d
I l a % °, n *Jh 6h
}? J^ 1 7 c Jd Qd
11 Me. sc <h £h
lo Qc 'as y n J( j h
North and South. S; East and West. 5.
Trie* 2— West shows his suit to ba
Tricks 3 and 4— East's play led to dls-
c ¥ s ?l on - l thInk u said: He flrs t disposes
of the ace of his partner's suit and then
throws the lead, with the chance of draw-
Ing two trumps for one. It may be as
sumed that East has no more clubs or
he would have led the trump at tricic S
instead of ace of clubs. 5 '
Trick 5-North is In difficulties.- It should
be borne in mind that he does not see tha
other hand3. He cannot tell that w«wt
has all the remaining clubs; indeed tha
great probability is against this. It seems
a reasonable assumption that the lead or
king of clubs will force the best trump
and leave >.orth/with a long club which
he will eventually bring in. North^^al
ternative is to open one of his short sulta
aurandom^ This can hardly be recom
mended. On the whole, while recognizing
the awkwardness of the situation i^liS
in favor of the lead actually made 'it has
been suggested that East should not a£!
cept the force. I think he does not kno£
enough about the remaining ¦ cards i to do
better than trump and open his «t?n«2
be 1 hea??s Uth '" dlSCard ' h^ S S tt
Trick 6-^East does not show number as
he does not wish the strong adversary tS
count his hand. The play of th^«
West and of the ace by Nortt k Jinn
South (holding king-10 hims el f) ffi
queen- jack are in East's hand
Trick 7-North, before parting with his
whi e r.h h «f P V B £ 8 rtd of 6 diamond with
which the lead may be nut in hi« >v.«2
at a time when he haa only club! tV^
on with. North's lead of aca nf *&
monds, after South^as declared h« It"
to be his suit, should s" aouth to ?hmk S
Sf-t£ e i? h S Uld .? ote that Ninth is ivoid"
?. g vi e l ead and » subsequent trick aj-Trt
No O r U t 1 h d s t &d f .° rePlaCe< . W^ * u^
Trick 8— South. <Toes not want tha i««,» .
from obtaining the lead. West
Copyright, 19C2, by Robert Howard Russell.
a a f% NDOUBTED," observed the
I *\ Old Cattleman, during one of
I J our long excursive talks, "on-
doubted, the Trays an* the mo
tives of Injuns is past the white
man's findin* out He's shore a mystery,
the Injun is, an' where the paleface is
forever fallin' of his s'lution Is that the
latter ropes at this yere problem In cop
per-color from the standpoint of : the
Caucasian. Can a dog understand a
wolf? Which I should remark not!
"It's a lieap likely, too, that with In
juns the white man In his turn Is jest as
difficult to solve. An* without the Injua
findin' onusual fault with em, that's a
triangle of things whereof the .savage
accooses the paleface. The Western In
juns at least— for I ain't posted none- on
Eastern savages, the same bein' happily
killed off prior to my time— the Western
Injuns, as I remarks, lays the bee, the
wild turkey an' that weed they calls the
'plantain* at the white man's door. They
all descends upon the Injun hand in
hand. No, the Injun don't call the last
R named vegetables a 'plantain'; he alloodes
to it as 'the white man's foot.'
"Thar's traits dominant among Injuns
which it wouldn't lower the standln' of
a white man if he ups an* imitates a
whole lot. I once encounters a savage —
one of these yere blanket Injuns with
feathers in his ha'r — an* bein' idle an*
careless of what I'm about, I butts Into
ca&ooal talk with him. This buck's been
East "for the first time in his darkened
c'reer an' visited the Great Father at
Washin'ton. I asks him what he regyards
as the deepest game he in his travels
gees ag'inst. At first he allows that pie,
that a-way, makes the most profound
impression. But I bars pie, an' tells him
to Bu'gest the biggest thing he strikes not
on no bill of fare. Tharupon, abandonin'
&enoos an' wonders of the table, he
rcominates a moment an' then declar's
that the steamboat — now that pie Is ex
ploded—ought to get the nom'natlon.'
" 'The choo-choo-boat,' observes this in
telligent savage, 'is the paleface's big
medicine.*
' " "You'll have a list of marvels," I says,
to avalanche upon your people when you
cuts the trail of the ancestral tribe
a'gin?*
** 'No," retorts the savage, shakin' his
head ontil the skelp lock whips his
y'ears, an' all mighty decisive; 'no; won't
tell Injun nothln'.'
" "Why not?' I demands.
" "If I tell,' he says, 'they no believe.
They think It all heap lie.'
"Son, consider what a example to trav
elers is set by that ontootered savage!
That's what makes me say thar be traits
possessed of Injuus, personal, which a
paleface might Improve hims/'f by cop-
Jin'.
"Bein' white, myse'f. I'm shore born
•with notions ag'in Injuns. I learns of
their deestruction ¦with relief, an' never
sees one pirootin* about, fiiU v of life an'
vivacity, but the spectacle fills me with
vain regrets. All the same, thar's' a load
of lies told East about the Injun. I was
wont from time to time to discuss these
sons of nacher with Gen'ral Stanton, who
for years is stationed about in Arizona,
an'— merely, for the love he b'ars to fight
in'—performs as chief of scouts for Gen
'ral Crook.
" *Our divers wars with the Apaches,'
says Gen'ral Stanton, 'comes more as the
frocts of a misdeal by a locoed marshal
than anything else besides. When Crook
first shows up in Arizona— this yere is the
long ago— an' starts to Inculcate idees of
peace amoor.g the Apaches, he gets old
Jeffords to bring Cochise to him to have a
pov/-wow. Jeffords rounds up Cochise an*
herds him with soft words an* big prom
ises into the presence of CroolL The Gray
Fox— which was the Injun name for
Crook— makes Cochise a talk. Likewise
he p'ints out to the chief the landmarks
an' mountain peaks that indicates the
Mexican line. An' the Gray Fox explains
to Cochise that what cattle is killed an*
•what skelps Is took to the southward of the
line ain't goin' to bother him a bit. But
no'th'ard it's different; thar in that sacred
region cattle killin' an' skelp collectin'
don't go. The Gray Fox shoves the infor
mation on Cochise that every trick turned
on the American side of the line has done
got to partake of the characteristics of a
love affair or the Gray Fox with his young
men In bl.oo— noomerous as the sands,
they be— will come down on Cochise an'
his Apaches Hkea coyote on a sage hen
nn* make 'em powerful hard to find.
" 'Cochlse smokes an* smokes, an* after
considerln* the bluff of the Gray Fox
plenty profound, allows he won't call it.
Thar shall be peace between the "Apaches
an* the paleface to the north'ard of that
line. Then the Gray Fox an' Cochise
shakes hands an* says "How!" an* Co
chise. with a bolt or two of red calico ,
wherewith to embellish his squaws. goes
squanderin' back to his people permeated
to the toes with friendly Intentions.
"'Seen Is Cochise'* reverence for his :
word, coupled with- his fear of -the Gray I
Fox. that years floats by an* every defile ,
an* canyon of the Southwest Is as safe as •
a church to the moccasins of the paleface •
Thus It continues. ontil thar comes a j
evenin' when a JImcrow marshal with \
more Blx-shooters than hoss sense allows ]
oe u apprenena v^ocmse s orotner xor
some venal offense that wasn't most like
ly deuce high in the category of troo
crime. This edict offlshul reaches for the
relative of Cochise; .an* as tha latter—
bein' a savage an' tharfbre plumb afraid
of '"captivity— leaps back'ard like he's met
up with a rattlesnake, the marshal puts
his gun on him an' plugs him so good he
cashes In right thar. The marshal says
later in explanation of his game that Co
chJse's brother turns hostile an' drops his
hand on his knife. Most likely he does;
a gent's hands — even a Apache's — has done
got to be some'ers all the time.
" 'But the killin' overturns the peaceful
programmes built up between the Gray
Fox an' Cochise. When the old chief
hears of his ' brother bein' downed, he
paints hlmse'f black an' red an' sends a
bundle of arrers tied -with a rattlesnake
skin to the Gray Fox with a message to
pui me numoer oi paieiaces wno loses
their ha'r as the direct result of that fool
marshal layln' for Cochise's brother an*
that Injun's consequent cuttln" off at a
round ten thousand. Shore, thar's scores
an' scores who gets stood up an' killed in
the hills whereof we never gets a whis
per. I. myse'f, In gpin* throughthe tee
pees of a \ Apache outfit, after we done
wipes 'em off the footstool, sees the long
h'ar of seven white women who couldn't
have been dead no time. Who were they?
Polks onknowin' who's got shot Into
while romancin* along among the hills
with schemes no doubt of settlement in
Californy. . . • -*
" 'With what we know, of the crooel ties
of the Apaches,/ thar's likewise sperit of
what book sharps ' calls ¦ chivalry • goes
with 'em, an', albeit \ on -one ha'r-hungr
o'casion I profits 'mightily tharby, I'm
onable to give It a reason. You wouldn't
WITH THE APACHES
Lewi*/*
WOLFVILLE STORIES
. . ...,.,. . ... . . . . .... ....... . . ¦ .
THE SUNDAY CALL;
PHOTOGRAPHIC POINTERS FOR AMATEURS
JT is now reported on unquestionable
authority that the photographs sub
mitted by Edward Steichen to the
Parts Salon will not be hung in the
¦ forthcoming exhibition. While Mr.
Steichen's success in having his pictures
accepted by the Jury of artists is none the
less a success for' photography, the action
of the hanging committee In refusing to
hang them is a distinct disappointment
to all who have the true interests of pic
torial photography at heart and who had
counted upon seeing it represented at>the
Paris Salon this year, for the first time.
Specialization In' photography Is one of
the best' methods for advancing in provi
ciency and may be put in practice by the
novice as 'to good - or better, .advantage
than by the more experienced worker.
The snap-shooter who takes vievrs indis
criminately, now photographing a land
scape, then a marine, next a portrait, and
then something, else, covering the whole
gamut of . photographic possibilities In a
dozen -or more "consecutive exposures, Is
the dabbler, who will remain a novice as
long as he continues to use the camera.
That will probably not be for many, years,
as failing to learn thoroughly: and to ap
preciate the magnificent possibilities in
any one field, he will shortly become blase
and will drop photography for some new
fad.' There is hardly &' prominent ama
teur in the field to-day, who has not real
ized this • fact and : devoted > his energies
almost wholly, to one or > another special
line of work ; and all . that has t been
achieved up to this time has been due
to the earnest and intelligent efforts -.of
men and women who, halving started js
tile merest, amateurs, -have. seen. the pos
sibilities before them and have developed
their faculties along the lines which most
interested and offered them the greatest
la&cinciicn.
As a means of .putting this advice into
execution let the beginner take, for exam
ple, such a subject as botany, natural
history, architecture or landscape com
position; and having selected that which is
most congenial, let him secure a handbook
¦on the subject and get to work with the
idea of Illustratlng.lt with his. own pic
tures. Progress will, of course, bo Blow,
but the educational value will: be very
great and he will in this way! obtain" a
knowledge of the general . subject, in* ad
dition to^the technical ¦ knowledge of" the
, picture making, that would hardly be pos
sible in any other manner. .
.To the many who prefer printing-out
paper; to. the newar .gaslight developing
papers, the long hours of daylight at this
season, of the year are especially welcome.
Too much ' attention, however, cannot be
paid to the thorough washing ,oZ the
prints, after toning and* fixing,-; ai, if any
trace of ; hypo remains In the paper; its
destructive effects will be apparent long
before winter comes, and work \, upon
which, time and effort have been expended
will have been spoiled. -Both gelatine and
collodion papers require ..very complete
washing and if bitter disappointment
would be avoided they should be handled
about,' separated and , rinsed as often as
ten_or a dozen times during at 'least an
hour of 'washing in running water. If
washed in- trays the water .. should . be
changed as many as fifteen times or, more
and the prints separated with eactfi change
—when 'washing. in, this way it is better
to use two trays and to throw the prints'
from one tray- to another of fresh water,
handling. each print separately and re
peating ihc .operation.; as, each , tray, is
emptied. A. little extra care in washing
often means the difference ! between, a
print that, is^permanent and" one that
shortly turns to a dirty., yellow color, for
which "there is no remedy.
.With correct exposure and development
a negative does not require intensification,
but in cases where the negative is weak
from :¦ extreme exposure or Improper de
velopment ' Scolik's method of . intensifica
tion Is simple and permanent. The nega
tive to-be strengthened must first be thor
oughly, washed, to. free ' iJ from all trace
of hypo and then . immersed in
¦ Mercury bichlbride............ 1 part
Potassium bromide.'.. 1 part
Water:..:... .......... ........50 parts
where it is left until the film Is thoroughly,
and evenly^whlte.'after^which it is rinsed
and. immersed in admixture of equal parts
of : saturated solution of . sodium ; sulphite
and water and left until the > white has
entirely; left', tho. plate andithe film i3 uni
formly dark brown or black. It. should
then -be thoroughly ? washed and ' dried as
usual.. . ¦" ¦ - - ¦" . ,. ... : .
6
a coat on the gin'ral trouble, the lead
wagon breaks down. I turns out in the
enow with, th© rest, an we-all puts in
a heated an* mighty profane half-hour
restorin' the wagon to health. At last
we're onder headway ag*ln, an' I wades
back through the snow to my amb'lance.
" 'As I arrives at the r'ar of my offlshul
wagon, It occurs to mo I'll fill a pipe an*
smoke some by virchoo of my nerves,
the same bein' a trifle torn an' frayed
with the many exasperations of the day,
I gives, my driver" the -word to wait a bit,
. an* '-. searchin* forth my tobacco outfit,
loads an' lights my pipe. I'm planted
waist deep In the mountain snows, but
havin' on hossman boots, the snow ain't
no hardship.
" 'While I'm fussln' with my pipe, the
six wagons an* my twenty men curves
•round a bend in the, trail an* is hid by
a corner of , the canyon. I reflects at the
time— though I ain't really expectin' no
perils— that I'd better catch up with my
escort If it's only to set 'the troops a ex
ample. As I exhales my first puff of
smoke and is on the verge of tellin* my
driver to" pull out-this yere muleskinner
is settin' so that matters to the r'ar is
cut off from his gaze by the canvas cover
of my wagon— a slight noise attracks me.
an' castin' my eye along the trail we've
been climbln' I notes a full dozen Apache3
comin'. An' It ain't no hyperbole to say
they're shore comin' all spraddled out.
" 'In the lead an* for all the deep snow
racin' up on me like the wind is a big, be
feathered buck, painted to the eyes; an'
on his right fist, raised to hurl it, is a
12-foot lance. In a moment, I realizes
how he'pless, utter, I be, an* with what
ca'mness I may adjusts my mind to the
fact that I've come to the end of my trail.
He'pless? Shore! I'm stuck as deep in
the snow as one of the j>lnes about me;
my guns are in the wagon outen immedi
ate reach; thar I stands as certain a prey
to that Apache with the lance as he's
likely to go up agMnst doorin' the whole
campaign^ Why, I'm a pick-up. I re
members my wife an' babies, an" sort o'
Bay3 "Goodby!" to 'em, for I'm as shore
of my finish, as I am of the hills an' the
snows beneath my feet. However, since
it's all I can do, I-continyoos to smoke
an' watch my execootioners come on.
"'The big lance Injun, it looks like, is
the-, dominatin' sperit of the bunch. As he
draws up to me— he's fifty foot in advance
of the others — he makes his lance shiver
from p'int to butt. It fairly sings a death
scr.g! t-* '
"'As I. gazes, I can feel it goythrough
an*, through me. a score of -times; but I
stands thar 'facin'- him, -for, nacherally, I
wants it to go through from the front.
I don't- propose to be picked up later with
anything so onfashionable as a lance
wormed in my back. That would be on
professionable! !
" '.You onderstands . that what now re
quires minutes in the recital don't cover
seconds as a play. The lance Injun runs
up to within a rod of me an' halts. His
arm goes back for a mighty cast of the
lance, the weepon vibrant with the very
speiit of hate an' malice. His eyes,
through a fringe of ha'r that ha3 fallen
over "em, glows out like a cat's eyesf^m
the dark. .We stands thar— I still puffin*
my pipe, he with his lance raised— an* wa
•look on each other— I ;an' that: palht
daubed buck! I can't say whatever }a his
notion, of me, but on my side I never be
holds a savage who appeals to me as a
more disgustin* picture! »
" 'As I looks him over a change takes
place. The fire in his eyes dies out. his
face relaxes froclty an* after standln' for
a moment an' as the balahce of the band
arrives; he turns the lance ove> his arm
an* with the butt presented surrenders it
into my hand. You can gambfe I don't,
lose no time In arguin' the question, but
accepts the lance with aU that It implies.
Bringin* the weepon to a "right shoulder"
an' with my mind relieved, I gives the
word to my mule-skinner— who's oncon
sclous of the transactions in life an' death
goin* on behind hia back— an* with 'that,
we-all takes up our march an*, soon cornea
up on the v escort where- it's yag' In fixed
firm in the snow about a furlong /to tha
fore. My savages follows with me, an'
each of 'em as grave as squlnch. owls an'
tame as tabby cats. ' . . i
" 'Joke? No; them Apaches teas as hos
tile as Gila monsters. But behoidm'-.me,
as they regyard3 it— for they 'non't in
their ontaught simplicity make allowance
for me bein" Implanted in the sfcow,. gun
less an' he'pless — so plumb' • brave,
atvaitin" destruction without a quiver,
their . admiration mounts to a«ich heights
it drowns within 'em every 'thought of
cancelin' me_with that lan<Se, an' thar
upen they pays me their sav&'ge compli
ments in manner an' form described.
They don't regyard themse'fs as - sur
renderin', neither; they esteems passin*
me the lance as inauguratin' a armstlca
an' . looks upon themse'fs as guests
an* onder my safegyard. free to say
"How!" an* vamos back to the war
path ag*in whenever the sperit of blood
begins to stir within their breasts; I
saveys enough of their ways to be post
ed as to what they expects; an' bein',
I hope, a gent of honor, I accedes to 'em
that exact status which they believes
they enjoys.
" 'They travels with me that day, eats
with me that evenin' when we makes our
camp, has a drink with me all around,
sings savage hymns to me throughout
the night, loads up with my chuck In
the mornin', offers me no end of flattery
as a dead game gent whom they respect,
says adlos; an' . then they scatters like
a flock o' quail. Also, : havin' resoomed
business on old time lines, they - take3
divers shots at us with their "Winchesters
doorin' the next two days, an' kills a
hoss an*, creases my sergeant. Why don't
I corral an' hold 'em captive when they're
in my clutch? It would have been break
in' that tacit trooce as Injuns an" I
understands seen things; moreover, they
let me go free without conditions when
I was a loser by every roole of the
game.' " .