ny is?" sez Bill.

"Why no," sez the tourist. "I just arrived this mornin', an' I'm
waitin' for my uncle to send in after me."

"Is that so?" sez Bill. "Well, I'll bet your uncle knows who this pony
is. This pony is Captain. Who is your Uncle?"

"Why, my uncle is Charles W. Hampton," sez the tourist.

"You don't say!" sez Bill. "Well, Cholly knows who Captain is all
right."

"Oh, do you know him?" sez the tourist.

"Why, everybody knows him around here," sez Bill.

"That's funny; they told me he lived over a hundred and forty miles
from here," sez the tourist. "But what is the' about Captain that makes
him so wonderful? He don't look like much of a pony to me."

Bill looks at the pony and then he looks at the tourist, then he looks
at the pony again an' sez in a low voice: "It ain't on his looks, it's
for what he's done that makes Captain famous."

"What's he done?" sez the tourist.

"Did you ever hear of Custer's massacre?" sez Bill.

"Of course I have," sez the tourist, gettin' interested.

Bill, he walks up an' puts his hand on the pony's neck, an' then he
turns an' sez proudly, "This here pony is the last survivin' remnant of
that historical event."

"You don't say!" sez the tourist. "What are you goin' to do with him?"

"I don't want to say a word again the flag of my country," sez Bill,
holdin' tip his hand, "but my country ain't got the gratitude it ort to
have when it comes to hosses. I don't blame 'em for condemnin' the
common run o' hosses an' sellin' 'em to wear out their pore lives
in--in toilsome labor, but when it comes to a hoss with a record like
Captain--well, I kept him as long as I could afford it. Now I'm goin'
to give him a good groomin', spend my last penny in givin' him one more
feed, an' then take him out on the broad free prairie of his native
soil--an' shoot him. Of course I could sell him, but I won't do it. I'd
rather give him a soldier's death than to have him hammered around in
his old age, after all he's done for his country."

Well, the tourist, he gets all het up over it, an' then he comes over
to where us fellers gathered. We're standin' in solemn awe, an' he sees
the' ain't any of it put on; but he can't tell that it ain't respect
for what the pony has done that makes us so solemn; he can't see 'at we
're off erin' up our tribute to Bill.

"Do any of you gentlemen know anything about that pony?" sez the
tourist.

"Who, Captain!" sez a tall, lanky, sad-lookin' punch