loojacket never gets tried.

"A week rides by, an' he's standin' in front of the agency, sort o'
makin' up some views concernin' his destinies. He's all alone; though
forty foot off four Osage bucks is settin' together onder a cottonwood
playin' Injun poker--the table bein' a red blanket spread on the
grass,--for two bits a corner. These yere sports in their blankets an'
feathers, an' rifflin' their greasy deck, ain't sayin' nothin to
Bloojacket an' he ain't sayin' nothin' to them. Which jest the same
these children of nacher don't like the idee of downin' your parent none,
an' it's apparent Bloojacket's already half exiled.

"As he stands thar roominatin,' with the hot August sun beatin' down,
thar's a atmosphere of sadness to go with Bloojacket. But you-all would
have to guess at it; his countenance is as ca'm as on that murderin'
evenin' in the half-breed's restauraw.

"Bloojacket is still thar, an' the sports onder the cottonwood is still
gruntin' joyously over their poker, when thar comes the patter of a
bronco's hoofs. Thar's a small dust cloud, an' then up sweeps the
Caldwell beauty. She comes to a pull-up in front of Bloojacket. That
savage glances up with a inquirin' eye an' the glance is as steady as the
hills about him. The Caldwell beauty--it seems she disdains mournin'--is
robed like a rainbow; an' she an' Bloojacket, him standin', she on her
bronco, looks each other over plenty intent.

"Which five minutes goes by if one goes by, an' thar the two stares into
each other's eyes; an' never a word. The poker bucks keeps on with their
gamble over onder the cottonwood, an' no one looks at the two or seems
like they heeds their existence. The poker savages is onto every move;
but they're troo to the Injun idee of p'liteness an' won't interfere with
even so much as the treemor of a eyelash with other folks's plays.

"Bloojacket an' the Caldwell beauty is still gazin'. At last the
Caldwell beauty's hand goes back, an' slow an' shore, brings to the front
a eight-inch six-shooter. Bloojacket, with his eye still on her an'
never a flicker of feelin', don't speak or move.

"The Caldwell beauty smiles an' shows her white teeth. Then she lays the
gun across her left arm, an' all as solid as a church. Her pony's gone
to sleep with his nose between his knees; an' the Caldwell beauty settles
herse'f in the saddle so's to be ready for the plunge she knows is
comin'. The Caldwell beauty lays out her game a