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I hope you think I shall have a good husband, Peter." "Hope so, too nebber know till time come. All good for little while Injin good, squaw good. Juss like weadder. Sometime rain sometime storm sometime sunshine. Juss so wid Injin, juss so wid pale-face. No difference. All same. You see dat cloud? he little now; but let wind blow, he grow big, and you see nuttin' but cloud.
"That's another matter, and more easily come at. I understand you now, Chippewa; you wish to know how many of us there are in the country we call America?" "Juss so," returned Pigeonswing, nodding in assent. "Dat juss it juss what Injin want to know." "Well, we do have a count of our own people, from time to time, and I suppose come about as near to the truth as men can come in such a matter.
"Ah had one of them last night. Dreamed Ah saw a feller that had shot hisself that I saw one time reconnoitrin' out in the Bringy Wood." "What was that?" "Nawthin', juss a Fritzie had shot hisself." "Better than opium," said Andrews, his voice trembling with sudden excitement. "Ah dreamed the flies buzzin' round him was aeroplanes.... Remember the last rest village?"
"Lawsie, Ah juss woke up, Andy. Come along in back." Andrews followed him through a small room with tables and benches, down a corridor where the reek of ammonia bit into his eyes, and up a staircase littered with dirt and garbage. Chrisfield opened a door directly on the stairs, and they stumbled into a large room with a window that gave on the court.
"Well, what d'ye expect of you guys who live in the city all your lives and don't know the butt from the barrel of a gun an' never straddled anything more like a horse than a broomstick. Ye're juss made to be sheep. No wonder they have to herd you round like calves."
"Juss so full of cur'osity. Squaw is squaw no matter what color." "I am sorry, Peter, you do not think better of squaws. Perhaps you never had a squaw no wife, or daughter?"
He's a goddam yeller dawg." Chrisfield swore sullenly. "Well, you juss wait 'n see. I tell you, buddy, war ain't no picnic." "What the hell are we goin' to do with that chicken?" said Judkins. "You remember what happened to Eddie White?" "Hell, we'd better leave it here." Judkins swung the chicken by its neck round his head and threw it as hard as he could into the bushes.
"If he was an awficer, they wouldn't throw him over like that," came the shrill hysterical voice again. "Cut that," said someone else, "no use gettin' in wrong juss for the sake of talkin'." "But ain't it dangerous, waitin' round up here so near where those fellers are with that sickness," whispered Fuselli to the man next him. "Reckon it is, buddy," came the other man's voice dully.
There's no use protesting a friend of yours here will help us to trace your career back to the finding of the Blue Bird mine. Take him along and lock him into the galvanized store shed." The prisoner was taken away, and Geoffrey turned to his foreman. "He was in the drilling gang, Tom?" "Juss so! Working under the wall bed of the cañon." "That lets some light on to the subject.
"So many of your red-skin brethren are about, that I didn't expect to see you again for these two or three days." "No want to eat, den, eh? How you all eat, if hunter don't do he duty? S'pose squaw don't cook vittles, you no like it, eh? Juss so wid hunter no KILL vittles, don't like it nudder." "This is true enough.
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