would make no comment. Neither was
he likely to be provoked to any recital of counter experiences. At last,
however, he gave forth the observation which I quote above and I saw that
I had brought him out. I became at once wordless and, lighting a cigar,
leaned back to listen.

"As I observes," he resumed, following a considerable pause which I was
jealous to guard against word or question of my own; "I tells this tale
to Colonel Sterett, Old Man Enright, an' the others one time when we're
restin' from them Wolfville labours of ours an' renooin' our strength
with nosepaint in the Red Light bar. Jest as you does now, Dan Boggs
takes up this question of luck where Cherokee Hall abandons it, an'
likewise the subject of savages where Texas Thompson lays 'em down, an'
after conj'inin' the two in fashions I deems a heap weak, allows that
luck is confined strictly to the paleface; aborigines not knowin'
sufficient to become the target of vicissitoodes, excellent or otherwise.

"'Injuns is too ignorant to have what you-all calls "luck,"' says Dan.
'That gent who's to be affected either up or down by "luck" has got to
have some mental cap'bilities. An' as Injuns don't answer sech
deescriptions, they ain't no more open to "luck" than to enlight'ment.
"Luck" an' Injuns when took together, is preepost'rous! It's like
talkin' of a sycamore tree havin' luck. Gents, it ain't in the deck!'
An' tharupon Dan seals his views by demandin' of Black Jack the bottle
with glasses all 'round.

"'When it comes to that, Boggs,' says Colonel Sterett, as he does Dan
honour in four fingers of Valley Tan, 'an' talkin' of luck, I'm yere to
offer odds that the most poignant hard-luck story on the list is the
story of Injuns as a race. An' I won't back-track their game none
further than Columbus at that. The savages may have found life a
summer's dream prior to the arrival of that Eytalian mariner an' the
ornery Spainiards he surrounds himse'f with. But from the looks of the
tabs, the deal since then has gone ag'inst 'em. The Injuns don't win
once. White folks, that a-way, is of themse'fs bad luck incarnate to
Injuns. The savage never so much as touches 'em or listens to 'em or
imitates 'em, but he rots down right thar. Which the pale-face shorely
kills said Injuns on the nest! as my old grand-dad used to say.'

"'When I recalls the finish of Hardrobe,' I remarks, sort o' cuttin' into
the argyment, the same bein' free an' open to all, 'a