t's eyes in the dark.

"We stands thar--I still puffin my pipe, he with his lance raised--an'
we looks on each other--I an' that paint-daubed buck! I can't say
whatever is his notion of me, but on my side I never beholds a savage
who appeals to me as a more evil an' forbiddin' picture!

"'As I looks him over a change takes place. The fire in his eyes dies
out, his face relaxes its f'rocity, an' after standin' for a moment an'
as the balance of the band arrives, he turns the lance over his arm an'
with the butt presented, surrenders it into my hand. You can gamble I
don't lose no time in arguin' the question, but accepts the lance with
all 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
onconscious of the transactions in life an' death goin' on behind his
back--an' with that, we-all takes up our march an' soon comes up on the
escort where it's ag'in fixed firm in the snow about a furlong to the
fore. My savages follows along with me, an' each of 'em as grave as
squinch owls an' tame as tabby cats.

"'Joke? no; them Apaches was as hostile as Gila monsters! But
beholdin' me, as they regyards it--for they don't in their ontaught
simplicity make allowance for me bein' implanted in the snow, gunless
an' he'pless--so brave, awaitin' deestruction without a quiver, their
admiration mounts to sech heights it drowns within 'em every thought of
cancellin' me with that lance, an' tharupon they pays me their savage
compliments in manner an' form deescribed. They don't regyard
themse'fs as surrenderin' neither; they esteems passin' me the lance as
inauguratin' a armistice an' looks on themse'fs as guests of honor an'
onder my safegyard, free to say "How!" an' vamos back to the warpath
ag'in whenever the sperit of blood begins to stir within their breasts.
I knows enough of their ways to be posted as to what they expects; an'
bein', I hopes, a gent of integrity, 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 'round, sings savage hymns to
me throughout the night, loads up with chuck in the mornin', offers me
no end of flattery as a dead game gent whom they respects, says
_adios_; an' then they scatters like a flock of quail. Also, havin'
resoomed business on old-time lines, they takes divers shots at us with
their Winc