CHAPTER XIX.
The Luck of Hardrobe.
"Which I tells this yere narrative first, back in one of them good old Red Light evenin's when it's my turn to talk." The Old Cattleman following this remark, considered me for a moment in silence.

I had myself been holding the floor of discussion in a way both rambling and pointless for some time.

I had spoken of the national fortune of Indians, their superstitions, their ill-luck, and other savage subjects various and sundry.

My discourse had been remarkable perhaps for emphasis rather than accuracy; and this too held a purpose.

It was calculated to rouse my raconteur and draw him to a story.