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“Whatbusinesshavetheygotoffthereservation，I’dliketoknow，“saidtheranchman_“BowLeg，oranywhere？“
“Oh，it’sjustahunt，andakindofvisitin’theirfriendsontheSouthReservation，“Shortyexplained。“Squawsalongandall。“
“Well，ifthefolksatWashingtondon’tkeepsquawsandallwheretheybelong，“saidBalaam，inarage，“thefolksinWyomingTerritory’illdoalittlejobthatwaythemselves。“
“There’sapetitionout，“saidShorty。“Paper’sgoin’Eastwithalotofnamestoit。Buttheyain’tnoharm，themIndiansain’t。“
“Noharm？“raspedoutBalaam。“WasitwhitemendruvofftheO。
C。yearlings？“
Balaam’sEasterngrammarwassometimesatthemercyofhisWesternfeelings。ThethoughtoftheperennialstultificationofIndianaffairsatWashington，whetherbypoliticianorphilanthropist，wasalwayssuretoarousehim。Hewalkedimpatientlyaboutwhilehespoke，andhaltedimpatientlyatthewindow。Outintheworldtheuncloudeddaywasshining，andBalaam’seyetravelledacrosstheplainstowhereablueline，faintandpale，layalongtheendofthevastyellowdistance。
ThatwasthebeginningoftheBowLegMountains。Somewhereoverthereweretheredmen，ranginginunfrequenteddepthsofrockandpine——theirforbiddenground。
Dinnerwasready，andtheysatdown。
“AndIsuppose，“Balaamcontinued，stillhotonthesubject，“you’dclaimIndiansobjecttokillingawhitemanwhentheyrunontohimgoodandfarfromhumanhelp？ThesepeaceableIndiansarejusttheworstinthebusiness。“
“That’sso，“assentedtheeasy-opinionedShorty，exactlyasifhehadalwaysmaintainedthisview。“ChapstartedforSunkCreekthreeweeksago。Trapperhewas；oldlike，witharedshirt。Oneofhishorsescomeintotheround-upToosday。Manain’tbeenheardfrom。“Heateinsilenceforawhile，evidentlybroodinginhischildlikemind。Thenhesaid，querulously，“I’dsoonertrustoneofthemIndiansthanIwouldTrampas。“
Balaamslantedhisfatbulletheadfartooneside，andlayinghisspoondown(hehadopenedsomecannedgrapes)laughedsteadilyathisguestwithaharshrelishofirony。
Theguestateagrape，andperceivinghewasseenthrough，smiledbackrathermiserably。
“Say，Shorty，“saidBalaam，hisheadstillslantedover，“what’sthefiguresofyourbankbalancejustnow？“
“Iain’tusin’banks，“murmuredtheyouth。
BalaamputsomemoregrapesonShorty’splate，anddrawingacigarfromhiswaistcoat，sentitrollingtohisguest。
“Matchesarebehindyou，“headded。HegaveacigartotheVirginianasanafterthought，buttohisdisgust，theSouthernerputitinhispocketandlightedapipe。
Balaamaccompaniedhisguest，Shorty，whenhewenttothepasturetosaddleupanddepart。“Gotarope？“heaskedtheguest，astheylifteddownthebars。
“Don’tneedtoropehim。IcanwalkrightuptoPedro。Youstayback。“
Hidinghisbridlebehindhim，Shortywalkedtotheriver-bank，wherethe-ponywasswitchinghislongtailintheshade；andspeakingpersuasivelytohim，hecamenearer，tillhelaidhishandonPedro’sduskymane，whichwasmanyshadesdarkerthanhishide。Heturnedexpectantly，andhismastercameuptohisexpectationswithapieceofbread。
“Eatsthat，doeshe？“saidBalaam，overthebars。
“Likesthesalt，“saidShorty。“Now，n-n-ow，here！Yu’don’tguessyu’llbebridled，don’tyou？Openyourteeth！Yu’dliketoplayyu’wasnobody’shorseandliveprivate？Ormaybeyu’dpreferownin’asaloon？“
Pedroevidentlyenjoyedthistalk，andthedodginghemadeaboutthebit。Oncefairlyinhismouth，heacceptedtheinevitable，andfollowedShortytothebars。ThenShortyturnedandextendedhishand。
“Shake！“hesaidtohispony，wholiftedhisforefootquietlyandputitinhismaster’shand。Thenthemastertickledhisnose，andhewrinkleditandflattenedhisears，pretendingtobite。
Hisfaceworeanexpressionofknowingrelishoverthisperformance。“Nowtheotherhoof，“saidShorty；andthehorseandmastershookhandswiththeirleft。“Ilearnedhimthat，“saidthecowboy，withprideandaffection。“Say，Pede，“hecontinued，inPedro’sear，“ain’tyu’thebestlittlehorseinthecountry？
What？Here，now！Keepoutofthat，youdead-beat！Thereain’tnomorebread。“Hepinchedthepony’snose，onequarterofwhichwaswedgedintohispocket。
“Quitealady’sl
