"
"Right on the war-path all the time, flourishing a
scalping-knife above his head, and whooping his teeth
loose--that's your notion of an Indian."
"Well, I don't know as that is exactly it," returned Ollie,
doubtfully. "But it seems to me these are hardly right. Their
clothes seem to be just like white people's."
"I don't know about that," said Jack. "I saw one when I went
around to the post-office wearing bright Indian moccasins, a pair
of soldier's trousers, a fashionable black coat, and a cowboy
hat. I never saw a white man dressed just like that."
"Well, I think they ought to wear some feathers, anyhow,"
insisted Ollie. "An Indian without feathers is just like a--a
turkey without 'em."
The Indians were idling all over town, big, lazy,
villanous-looking fellows, and very frequently they were smoking
cigarettes, and often they were dressed much as Jack had
described, though their clothes varied a good deal. There were
two points which they all had in common, however--they were all
dirty, and all carried bright, clean repeating-rifles, We
wondered why they needed the rifles, since there was no game in
the neighborhood.
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