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Updated: May 28, 2025
Early the next morning, we received an invitation to spend the afternoon, in company with others, at Major Roundtree's, with Bishop Hamline. We went. The company was composed mostly of preachers, on their way to Conference. Among them were the Mitchells and Haneys. Of the first, there were Father Mitchell, a grand old Patriarch, John T. James, and Frank.
A minute later he called us, and when several of us walked out to where he was listening, we recognized Roundtree's voice, singing: "Little black bull came down the hillside, Down the hillside, down the hillside, Little black bull came down the hillside, Long time ago."
I can go no further. Oh, could one of you go on to Angel's, whilst I rest with some lady of your town?" Harry was apparently speechless from the thrall of her fresh young beauty, because it was Bob who answered. "You certainly can, Miss! Grizzley Bob's word on that. Where'd you come from?" "From Roundtree's, sir," timidly.
There was, I remember, a tin horn lawyer up about Dodge who thought he could recover their value, as these were agency Indians and the government owed them money. But all I got for three months' wages due me was the horse I got away on." McCann had been frozen out during Roundtree's yarn, and had joined the crowd of story-tellers on the other side of the fire.
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