The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 220: what you’re looking at

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

J. IG BUFFALO was his name. He was rheumy-eyed, and his long grizzly hair dangled about his ears. Nobody cared whether he wore a hat or not, but a shirt and overalls were incumbrances of civilization which the Indian agent and the authorities of the town of Comanche forced upon him, He bore them with scornful tolerance, and it was plain that he had assumed them for that visit only. For the old man was one of the originals. One Horse, the young mis- sion Indian, said Big Buffalo had five white men’s scalps, trophies of the old days, hanging in his tent. No Matter. Big Buffalo appeared harmless enough, dispirited enough, old enough to be handled like a curio out of a cave dwelling. He was prying around the rubbish heap across the lot in front of the tent just then, greatly interested in part of a brick of lim- burger cheese which the sergeant had thrown away. It seemed to have considerable charm for Big Buffalo, who turned it with his foot, tentatively at first, and then took it up. Satisfied upon closer inspection that it was a delicacy to adorn his board, or perhaps lured by the tinfoil about it, Butfalo put it in his sack. ‘Oh, what a dear, cute old Indian! ” said Jennie, hastening in for her camera. Buffalo was clawing over the top of the rubbish pile with his fingers. Thus absorbed, his ears probably con- fused by the many strange sounds of civilization, he did not hear the tread of Miss Jennie Tree as she slipped “up behind him with her devil-box. Miss Jennie was within ten feet of hini—the goal which she was trying for —when Big Buffalo straightened his back, turning squarely around, face presenting. He had seen those black boxes before, and had a vague notion that they took something from a man and fastened 1t on paper, and he didn’t like it at all. He made an astonishingly quick sidewise duck, his free arm fend- ing his face. “Naw!” growled Buffalo fiercely, giving great steam to the one English word that he knew. His vehemence startled Jennie, but she snapped him, and the trick was done. She backed away, grinning at Buffalo a little dubiously, for the old man was plainly out of sorts. “Naw!” said he again, springing forward, dropping his precious sack, inaking a grab for the camera. Jennie put it behind her as she backed off, shaking her head. ‘That appeared to puzzle Buffalo, accustomed to imme- 922 COPMICLOO S (C@)