José — page 60: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

JOSE. - | 53 till you reach the Arkansas River. The road is as level as a table, with only half a dozen small creeks on the way, hardly worth talking about, and the Indians a lot of burglars, not a bit like the Mormons you meet on the Oregon trail, who let you under- stand from the outset what sort of stuff they’re made of. The Indians hereabouts are burglars, that’s what they are! Where they can’t play fox, they’re afraid to play lion.” “TY believe you, Uncle Bill,” remarked Jose, as he inspected his rifle by the dying glare of the camp fire. The freighter pushed his hat back from his brow and slowly turned over. “Oh!” he muttered, in a contemptuous tone. “Have an eye on this young woman Mormon,” he leisurely continued, addressing the others; “he’s one of thé kind that believes nothing they haven’t seen with their own eyes. He’ll learn better, by and by,” Baumann, having examined his rifle, had, retired to Green’s wagon, with the intention of following the example of the rest; but the events of the day had made him nervous, and for a long time he lay unable to sleep. He had lost sight of his American friend shortly after dark, and he did not like to go to sleep until his return. Aftera while, however, his thoughts began to mingle one into another, and a light slumber settled upon his senses, until a sudden fright caused him to straighten up again and sit erect. He had a con- fused remembrance of having heard a report of fire-arms and excited exclamations; he started toward the opening of the wagon. A serene night had spread its shadows over the Gomicboo Ss (E(0)