They knows they couldn't do no monkey business with all them
sojers at Fort Sill."
"Yet here's a kid run off with by an Injun, and he brings back a pocket
mirror what belonged to Stella Fosdick. Sol Flatbush, ye've got ter give
a better defense o' ther Injuns than that."
"What hev I got ter do with ther Injuns?" asked Flatbush defiantly.
"Search me. But ye've made a wrong diagnosis, an' I don't like yer brand
o' talk none. I think myself thet yer too friendly ter ther redskins."
"What d'ye mean?" cried Flatbush, springing to his feet.
"I mean thet I don't trust yer none. I think ye're a skunk, an' I don't
like ter see yer face eround this yere camp. How much do this outfit owe
yer?"
"Three months' wage," answered the cow-puncher sourly.
Bud went down into his leather pouch and extracted a roll of bills, and
skinned off several.
"Thar it is. Skidoo! An' don't try ter mingle with this outfit none
hereafter. Thar'll be a new foreman o' ther night herd what ain't got so
many friends in this yere locality.
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