ite Chief put him in log
calaboose. Him stay there long, long time; mebbe so twenty, thirty
moons.

"Then him dig dirt in floor with hands, and cover up when they bring him
bread and water--and he hide his hands all the time, fingers so much
bleed. Then when dark and no moon, him dig out last dirt, him come up
outside. Him run sixty mile, him come my father, him tell my father."

"My father he say to our people, 'Now, we fight, and we fight heap!'"

Injun paused for a moment, as one considering and about to utter
judgment. "White man bad. Injun he no bad," he said.

Injun's story was concluded. He rose and walked from the bunk house.

There was a moment's hush broken by Jim Walker. "Who in thunder d'ye
s'pose that White Chief was?" he demanded. "Gee! We sure butted into
some real Injun history."

"That's what I'm thinkin'," said Bill Jordan. "An' seein' as how Injun's
uncle was old Rain-in-the-Face, an' seein' as how th' old man's fingers
was all stubbed off at th' ends, an' seein' as how Lonesome Charlie
Reynolds, th' greatest scout what ever lived, was a great friend of th'
Injuns, an' spoke their langwidge, an' seein' as how he was scout for
General Terry, up at old Fort Buford, an' seein' as how that's where th'
Seventh Cavalry was quartered, an' seein' as how Captain Tom Custer was
always hated by th' Sioux, an' by old Rain-in-the-Face in partic'ler--by
golly, boys!--"

Bill paused, as he and the men were impressed by the important point to
which his line of argument was leading, then went on excitedly: "We only
have t' reason deflectively t' put our fingers on th' button what caused
th' doggonedest Injun fights this country ever knowed!"

"It begins, gee whiz! it begins--we all are all right, boys! It begins
in '75, with Injun's tribe. An' in '76, General Custer an' Captain Tom
Custer an' two hundred an' sixty-one o' their men was all wiped out. An'
them Injuns kep' right on fightin' till '81, when John Gall, th' big
Sioux Chief, surrenders at that big fight in th' snow, when it was
fifty-two below, an' them Injuns was fightin' in their skins, with no
coverin' but a blanket.

"Just think of it, boys. An' sittin' right here in this bunk house,
years an' years after, us cowpunchers get th' real cause o' th' whole
rumpus, which them Washington folks has bin figurin' out for years, an'
couldn't do it none whatever. Didn't I tell you all when a Injun talks
he says somethin'?"

There was no disputing this, a