Then Kennedy
began to laugh and call himself names, and then, as he turned about to
retrace his steps by a short cut over the bottom, he was presently
surprised, but in no wise disconcerted, to find himself face to face
with a painted Sioux. There by the path side, cropping the dewy grass,
was the trained pony. Here, lounging by the trail, the thick black
braids of his hair interlaced with beads, the quill gorget heaving at
his massive throat; the heavy blanket slung negligently, gracefully
about his stalwart form; his nether limbs and feet in embroidered
buckskin, his long-lashed quirt in hand; here stood, almost confronting
him, as fine a specimen of the warrior of the Plains as it had ever been
Trooper Kennedy's lot to see, and see them he had--many a time and oft.
In that incomparable tale, "My Lord the Elephant," the great Mulvaney
comes opportunely upon a bottle of whiskey and a goblet of water. "The
first and second dhrink I didn't taste," said he, "bein' dhry, but the
fourth and fifth took hould, an' I began to think scornful of
elephants." At no time stood Kennedy in awe of a Sioux. At this time he
held him only in contempt.
"How, John," said he, with an Irishman's easy insolence, "Lookin' for a
chance to steal somethin'--is it?" And then Kennedy was both amazed and
enraptured at the prompt reply in the fervent English of the far
frontier.
Pages:
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45