easant for fear,--since I
drives through the Osage country now an' then--this Hardrobe an' his heir
plays even by stampedin' my cattle some evenin' if I don't. Thar's
nothin' like a dash of se'f-interest to make a gent urbane, an' so I
invites Hardrobe an' Bloojacket to make my camp their headquarters like
I'd been yearnin' for the chance.

"As you-all must have long ago tracked up on the information, it's
sooperfluous for me to su'gest that a gent gets used to things. Moreover
he gets used frequent to things that he's born with notions ag'inst; an'
them aversions will simmer an' subside ontil he's friendly with folks he
once honed to shoot on sight. It turns out that a-way about me an' this
Hardrobe an' his boy Bloojacket. What he'ps, no doubt, is they're
capar'soned like folks, with big hats, bloo shirts, trousers,
cow-laiggin's, boots an' spurs, fit an' ready to enter a civilised
parlour at the drop of the handkerchief. Ceasin' to rope for reasons,
however, it's enough to say these savages an' me waxes as thick as
m'lasses. Both of 'em's been eddicated at some Injun school which the
gov'ment--allers buckin' the impossible, the gov'ment is,--upholds in its
vain endeavours to turn red into white an' make folks of a savage.

"Bloojacket is down from the Bad Land country himself not long prior,
bein' he's been servin' his Great Father as one of Gen'ral Crook's scouts
in the Sittin' Bull campaign. This young Bloojacket,--who's bubblin'
over with sperits--has a heap of interestin' stories about the 'Grey
Fox.' It's doo to Bloojacket to say he performs them dooties of his as a
scout like a clean-strain sport, an' quits an' p'ints back for the
paternal camp of Hardrobe in high repoote. Thar's one feat of fast hard
ridin' that Injun performs, which I hears from others, an' which you-all
might not find oninterestin' if I saws it onto you.

"Merritt with three hundred cavalry marches twenty-five miles one
mornin'. Thar's forty Injun scouts along, among 'em this Bloojacket;
said copper-hued auxiliaries bein' onder the command of Gen'ral Stanton,
as game an' good a gent as ever packs a gun. It's at noon; Merritt an'
his outfit camps at the Rawhide Buttes. Thar's a courier from Crook
overtakes 'em. He says that word comes trailin' in that the Cheyennes at
the Red Cloud agency is makin' war medicine an' about to go swarmin' off
to hook up with Sittin' Bull an' Crazy Hoss in the Sioux croosades.
Crook tells Merritt to