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Updated: May 20, 2025
I seeks tales of Injuns as a relief an' to promote a average in favor of the species. "This Bill Connors' is a good-lookin' young buck when I cuts his trail; straight as a pine an' strong an' tireless as a bronco. It's about six years after the philanthrofists ropes onto Bill an' drags him off to a school.
Bill's sire a savage who's 'way up in the picture kyards, an' who's called 'Crooked Claw' because of his left hand bein' put out of line with a Ute arrow through it long ago gives his consent to Bill j'inin' that sem'nary. Crooked Claw can't he'p himse'f; he's powerless; the Great Father in Washin'ton is backin' the play of the philanthrofists.
"Bill is re-branded, 'Bill Connors, an' then he's done bound down to them books. After four years Bill gradyooates; he's got the limit an' the philanthrofists takes Bill's hobbles off an' throws him loose with the idee that Bill will go back to his tribe folks an' teach 'em to read. Bill comes back, shore, an' is at once the Osage laughin'-stock for wearin' pale-face clothes.
"As I'm sayin'; these well-meanin' though darkened sports, the philanthrofists, runs Bill down it's mebby when he's fourteen, only Injuns don't keep tab on their years none an' immures him in one of the gov'ment schools. It's thar Bill gets his name, 'Bill Connors. Before that he cavorts about, free an' wild an' happy onder the Injun app'lation of the 'Jack Rabbit. "Shore!
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