t true of all of it. On a
cracker box sat a dreamy-eyed, short, fat puncher; almost too fat for
his job. His nickname was "Single." He had been married five times. So
you can see that Single was a man of experiences. Furthermore, he was
always willing to talk about them. He gazed thoughtfully at Injun, who,
out in the sunlight, was still admiring his stickpin.

"The two funniest things in th' world t' me is mules an' Injuns," Single
said.

"Injuns don't never say or do nothin' funny," retorted a sour-looking
puncher.

"I mean queer, odd," Single replied.

"What do you know 'bout Injuns?" demanded the other.

"What do I know 'bout 'em!" snorted Single. "My third wife was a
half-breed."

"Gosh, Single!" another puncher broke in. "I knew you'd had plenty o'
wives, but I never knew you'd had no half wives."

"Th' wa'n't nothin' halfway 'bout her," Single replied bitterly, "'cept
th' breed." He seemed lost in gloomy thought, and fearing that he would
not talk at all, Whitey spoke.

"That was an inappropriate present to give Injun," he said.

"An inawhat?" asked Single, whose education had been neglected.

"Inappropriate. I mean it was something you wouldn't think he'd like,"
Whitey explained hastily.

"I dunno," Single answered. "You can't never tell 'bout a Injun. He
looks stuck on that there present now," and he nodded toward Injun, who
was devouring the stickpin with his eyes. "Mebbe he thinks it's
med'cine," Single went on.

"Medicine!" exclaimed Whitey.

"Sure--good luck," said Single. "An' if he does, you couldn't pry it
off'n him with a steam dredge."

It had not occurred to Whitey that Injun was superstitious. He never had
talked about it--but he never talked much about anything. And an
Indian's "medicine" is superstition, pure and simple. He cherishes some
object that he has come upon under conditions that make him think it
lucky. Sometimes the medicine man of his tribe performs a rite over this
object, and that gives a sort of religious flavor to it, making it
almost sacred in the owner's view. His belief in it is tribal; has come
down from his forefathers. It is very hard to shake an Indian's faith in
his medicine.

While Whitey was recalling these facts, which he had heard about,
Single's eyes were narrowing--looking inside his head, one might say, to
find there a story that fitted in with Injun's interest in his gift.

"Speakin' o' my third wife's half brother," Single broke out, at last.