It was at Kiowa City, a city of four hundred houses on blue-print
paper and six on earth, that Miss Post first felt certain that she
was going to enjoy her visit. It was there she first saw, at large
and on his native heath, a blanket Indian. He was a tall, beautiful
youth, with yellow ochre on his thin, brown arms and blue ochre on
his cheekbones, who sat on "Pop's" steps, gazing impassively at the
stars. Miss Post came out with her maid and fell over him. The maid
screamed. Miss Post said: "I beg your pardon"; and the brave
expressed his contempt by gutteral mutterings and by moving haughtily
away. Miss Post was then glad that she had not gone to Aiken. For the
twelve-mile drive through the moonlit buttes to Fort Crockett there
was, besides the women, one other passenger. He was a travelling
salesman of the Hancock Uniform Company, and was visiting Fort
Crockett to measure the officers for their summer tunics. At dinner
he passed Miss Post the condensed milk-can, and in other ways made
himself agreeable. He informed her aunt that he was in the Military
Equipment Department of the Army, but, much to that young woman's
distress, addressed most of his remarks to the maid, who, to his
taste, was the most attractive of the three.
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