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Updated: July 8, 2025
If Trumpeter Tyler flatted on church call, if Mrs. Stickney applied to the quartermaster for three feet of stovepipe, if Lieutenant Curtis were granted two days' leave for quail-shooting, Mary Cahill knew it; and if Mrs. "Captain" Stairs obtained the post-ambulance for a drive to Kiowa City, when Mrs.
Father went away yesterday morning with the team, to get some coal and some food. He went to Kiowa." "That's where I am going," interrupted Henry. "Yes," continued Mary, "I suppose he can't get back because of the snow. It's an awful storm." "We haven't anything to eat, and I don't know when father will be back," said George.
Smith fell dead behind the bar with a bullet through his heart. Kiowa Bill rolled against the bar and slowly sank to the floor and was dead when we reached him. The next day they were hauled to the cemetery, laying side by side in the same wagon, and were buried side by side in the same grave. Kiowa Bill had made his will a short time before and it was found on his body when he was killed.
"If you ask me, I think you've begun at the wrong end," said Ranson. "If I were looking for the Red Rider I'd search for him in Kiowa City." "Why?" "Because, at this end no one but a few officers knew that the paymaster was coming, while in Kiowa everybody in the town knew it, for they saw him start.
We met this chap accidentally a little favor of Providence, which had a special pigeonhole for us in those days. Our team had been using the Kiowa football team as a running track on their own field that afternoon, and the score was about 105 to 0 when the timekeeper turned off the massacre. Naturally all Siwash was happy. I will admit we were too happy to be careful.
Satanta was sent for by the commission as the leading spirit of the formidable Kiowa nation. When he entered the building at Fort Dodge in which daily sessions were held, he was told by the president to speak his mind without any reservation; to withhold nothing, but to truthfully relate what his tribe had to complain of on the part of the whites.
The strain was telling on the two teams; for, when you come right down to it, no Siwash man loves a Kiowa man any more fervently than a bull pup loves a cat. The teams lined up again and began playing "ring-around-a-rosy" to find who should make the next touchdown, when something happened. Klingel, the two-hundred-and-ten-pound Kiowan guard, started it.
"I left at once to warn the Osages, believing I could return before last night." "Them Osages is a cussed ornery lot, if that Jean out on the edge of the crowd there is a sample," a man from the west side of town broke in. "They are true blue, and Jean is not an Osage; he's a Kiowa," Le Claire replied quietly. "What of him ain't French," declared Cam Gentry.
On the northern continent, Utah and Yaqui, Kiowa and Comanche, Apache and Navajo, have all proved their superiority over the degenerated descendants of Cortez: as in the south have Cuncho and Cashibo, Goajira and Auracanian, over those of the ruthless Pizarro. The red man no longer goes to war as a mere savage.
The halfback went over the goal line. The Kiowa delegation didn't know whether to go crazy with joy or disgust. Our end of the grandstand clapped its hands pleasantly. Down in the Faculty box one or two of the professors, who hadn't forgotten everything this side of the Fall of Rome, wiggled uneasily and got a little bit red behind the ears. The teams changed goals and Rearick kicked off again.
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