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Updated: June 26, 2025
Next morning, true to his word, Will Osten started off to retrace his steps to San Francisco, much to the regret as well as surprise of all his friends, except Larry O'Hale and Bunco, both of whom, being aware of his motive, chuckled mightily in their sleeves but wisely said nothing.
How this came about was explained by the bunco. By tens of thousands and hundreds of thousands men sat up nights and schemed how they could get between the workers and the things the workers produced. These schemers were the business men.
"To think," said Maryann, with a quiet laugh, as she handed a cup of tea to Bunco "to think that I should ever come for to sit at tea with a live red Indian from Ameriky not that he's red either, for I'm sure that hany one with eyes in their 'ead could see that he's only brown." "Ah, my dear, that's 'cause he's changed colour," said Larry, pushing in his cup for more tea.
That's the philosophy of the bunco business; country people from the same neighborhood are sure to run up against each other the first time they come to New York. I put out my hand, and I said, 'Isn't this Mr. Dryfoos from Moffitt? He didn't seem to have any use for my hand; he let me keep it, and he squared those old lips of his till his imperial stuck straight out.
Turning quickly round, it was met by another house. Dashing aside, it was brought up by a wall. As a last resource it ran behind a pile of cut firewood and stuck its head into a hole, just as Larry O'Hale bounded through the gateway with a wild cheer of triumph. Will Osten, Big Ben, and Bunco quickly followed, and the gates were shut by the men of the fort.
After a few days the thick forests had disappeared, and richly cultivated small farms took their place. Everywhere they were most hospitably entertained by the inhabitants, who styled Will "Physico," because Bunco made a point of introducing him as a doctor. One evening they arrived at a little town with a small and rapid stream of water passing through it.
They went to a cafe frequented by men with smooth faces and shifty eyes, and sat at their drinks. "I'm glad I come across you, mister," said Haylocks. "How'd you like to play a game or two of seven-up? I've got the keerds." He fished them out of Noah's valise a rare, inimitable deck, greasy with bacon suppers and grimy with the soil of cornfields. "Bunco Harry" laughed loud and briefly.
In the kitchen the same subject was being discussed by a select party, consisting of Maryann, Mr Richards the coachman, his spouse Jemima formerly Scrubbins the baby Richards who has already been referred to as being reduced in the matter of his ablutions to a bread can and Larry O'Hale with his faithful Indian friend Bunco.
He was only winged, and when Will came up and saw his tremendous talons and beak, he paused to consider how he should lay hold of him. "Och, what claws!" exclaimed Larry. "Ah!" said Bunco, smiling, "more teribuble for scratch than yoos grandmoder, eh?"
Does his hawk-eye see nothing more?" "Bufflo!" exclaimed Bunco, as he drew up and gazed intently at a particular spot in the wilderness. "Ay, lad, it is buffalo an' no mistake. I know'd I should find 'em there," said the trapper, with a quiet chuckle, as he examined the priming of his rifle. "Now, friends, we'll have to approach them quietly.
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