Rocky Mountain Sam — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

24 ROCKY MOUNTAIN SAM. than three men under the charge of gluttony, and taken another gigantic pull from the stone bottle, Big Horn turned leisurely around in his seat, stood his gun up against the wall | near which he was sitting, and abruptly thrusting out his paw to Sam, said: ‘‘Put it there, pard.” Sam at once set Fayaway to one side, and ‘‘put it there;” that is he laid his hand in that of Big Horn, and gave him the greetings of the day. The professor did hkewise, upon being likewise requested to ‘‘put it there,” and, in a few words, gave the hunter an account of the day’s adventures. | , Big Horn listened attentively, but made no further com- ment than an occasional nod, and now and then an approy- ing nod at Sam. ‘‘Them’s gas-bags—isn’t they, perfesser?” said he, at length; and then added, after a moment's pause, ‘I’ve been to the Fort.” | ‘Fort Benton?” queried the Hermit. The hunter nodded, and proceeded to fill a short, black pipe, which he drew, with a pouch of tobacco, from his breast. ‘‘Also been to Silver City,” he resumed. ‘‘Goin’ to be a row; Injins showin’ their teeth; miners packin’ up their kitsand gittin’.” ‘‘Have you had a tussel yourself with the reds, Big Horn?” asked Sam. | | ‘You bet.” | several. hard puffs atthe short pipe, and then the surly hunter delivered himself as follows, in a quick, jerky, desultory way that was probably more satisfactory to him- self than any one else: “‘At the Fort day afore yisterday; Injins—Blackfeet—in -growlin’ “bout delay in annuities; commandant short and sharp with ’em; fight under barracks wall durin’ night; sodger killed an Injun, Injun scooped a sodger; merry time all round; drums beat to quarters, Injuns made tracks, swearin’ to git even; bound to be trouble, mark my words. Gin’ral guv me commission fur to scout the hull country, see how the varmints tuk things. Started down the Wala- Wala trail at sunrise; hoss shot..under me at lower ford of the Big Medicine; fit fur two hours in the chaparral, ’n killed three bucks, ‘sides stealin’a pony. All right till I got. to comicbooks (e(0)