'For myse'f, I'm prone an' eager to add to my information touchin' Injuns at every openin'.' "As Enright an' the rest makes expression sim'lar, I proceeds to onbuckle.

I don't claim much for the tale neither.

Still, I wouldn't copper it none for it's the trooth, an' the trooth should allers be played 'open' every time.

I'll tell you-all this Hardrobe story as I onfolds it to them." It was here my friend began looking about with a vaguely anxious eye.

I saw his need and pressed the button.
"I was aimin' to summon my black boy, Tom," he said.
When a moment later his favourite decanter appeared in the hands of one of the bar-boys of the hostelry, who placed it on a little table at his elbow and withdrew, the necessity for "Tom" seemed to disappear, and recurring to Hardrobe, he went on.
"Hardrobe is a Injun--a Osage buck an' belongs to the war clan of his tribe.