her widest brass-studded belt, her best and hottest blanket, she
was ready for the long drive.

Smith put a fresh bandage on her arm, and praised the scrawling signature
on the check which she had filled out after laborious and oft-repeated
efforts. He made sure that she had the flour-sack, and that the check was
pinned securely inside her capacious pocket, before he helped her in the
wagon. He had been all attention that morning, and her eyes were liquid
with gratitude and devotion as she and Meeteetse drove away. She turned
before they were out of sight, and her face brightened when she saw Smith
still looking after them. She thought comfortably of the fast approaching
day when she would be envied by the women who had married only "bloods" or
"breeds."

Smith, as it happened, was remarking contemptuously to Tubbs, as he nodded
after the disappearing wagon:

"Don't that look like a reg'lar Injun outfit? One old white horse and a
spotted buzzard-head; harness wired up with Mormon beeswax; a lopsided
spring seat; one side-board gone and no paint on the wagon."

"You'd think Meeteetse'd think more of hisself than to go ridin' around
with a blanket-squaw."

"He _said_ he was out of tobacer, but he probably aims to get drunk."

"More'n likely," Tubbs agreed. "Meeteetse's gittin' to be a reg'lar
squawman anyhow, hangin' around Injuns so much and runnin' with 'em. He
believes in signs and dreams, and he ain't washed his neck for six
weeks."

"Associatin' too much with Injuns will spile a good man. Tubbs," Smith
went on solemnly, "you ain't the feller you was when you come."

"I knows it," Tubbs agreed plaintively. "I hain't half the gumption I
had."

"It hurts me to see a bright mind like yours goin' to seed, and there's
nothin'll do harm to a feller quicker nor associatin' with them as ain't
his equal. Tubbs, like you was my own brother, I says that bug-hunter
ain't no man for you to run with."

"He ain't vicious and the likes o' that," said Tubbs, in mild defense of
his employer.

"What's 'vicious' anyhow?" demanded Smith. "Who's goin' to say what's
vicious and what ain't? I says it's vicious to lie like he does about them
idjot skulls and ham-bones he digs out and brings home, makin' out that
they might be pieces of fellers what could use one of them cotton-woods
for a walkin' stick and et animals the size of that meat-house at a
meal."

"He never said jest that."

"He might as well. What I'm aimin' at is