Sunset Ranch: A Story of a Boy's Adventures in the West — page 169: what you’re looking at

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

Taking French Leave. 157 And as he endeavored to get himself in a posi- tion of defense, his trembling finger fumbling with the lock of his gun, he heard his Sioux name pro- nounced in caressing accents. Why, it was the old medicine man after all! “White boy go away?” he said, in a crooning, mournful key. “ ‘Doctor’ he very sorry. Little white brother go. Never see him more?” “Why, doctor, you here! You're not going to give the warning?” “Ugh! Me no do that. Help you instead. See here. Knife. No use, mebbe? White boy wise. Will know if good to have. See! Cartridges, too.” And the old fellow produced a very businesslike knife and a bag of cartridges. Warmly Cuthbert embraced the fantastically- dressed old humbug—there was some good in the Sioux blood after all—at least Little Buckshot and this ancient wizard had risen above the hatred of their race for the white man. : So Cuthbert, with one last warm word of farewell, mounted his horse and rode slowly away to the dim southland, Buckskin stepping so lightly that there was no danger of hostile ears catching the sound of his hoof stroke. In long years to come the boy, grown a man, with world-wide experience, would always keep a corner in his heart green to the memory of the Sioux med- icine man, whose weird costumes and fantastic dances must fill a unique niche in his heart until time should be no more. Connicloe® <S C©