"I don't care who you are," said Ted, who was disgusted with the
fellow's airs. "If you were the chief himself, I would tell you to keep
away from my cows and ponies. What is the son of a chief? Nothing!"
The tone in which Ted said this was such that the young Indian flushed a
deeper red, and grasped his rifle harder.
"I am an educated Indian," said Crazy Cow, "and as good as any white
man. This is my country, and I shall go wherever I please."
"Go where you will, except on my ranch. Keep off that."
The Indian shrugged his shoulders.
"I go where I please. You, whoever you are, have no right to prevent me
from going anywhere. Who are you to talk to me like that?"
"My name is Ted Strong. I am a deputy United States marshal. Do you know
what that is?"
"Yes. I spit on them."
"Well, here's one you won't spit on. That's a cinch. You ought to be
ashamed of yourself, a man who got his education free from the United
States, to talk that way."
"Bah! I hate the United States which robbed my people of their lands,
and then made treaties only to break them. Since they have driven me
into the mountains they owe me a living, and I'm going to collect it."
"Very well, only be careful how you do it. I have said enough."
"Ted Strong talks big and much, but does nothing.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100