But what's the ust carin' 'bout a dead Injun here or there?
They got to go, one at a time, or more in a bunch.

But now, do you know what they just done with ole Mr.White Calf?
Why, they taken him out along with 'em a ways, till they thought we was fur enough away from 'em, an' then they probably got a lot of poles tied up, or else found a tree, an' they planted him on top of a scaffold, like jerked beef, an' left him there fer to dry a-plenty, with all his war clothes on and his gun along with him.

Else, if they couldn't git no good place like that, they likely taken him up on to a highish hill, er some rocky place, an' there they covered him up good an' deep with rocks, so'st the wolves wouldn't bother him any.

They tell me them buryin' hills is great places fer their lookouts, an' sometimes their folks'll go up on top o' them hills and set there a few days, or maybe overnight, a-hopin' they'll dream something.

They want to dream something that'll give 'em a better line on how to run off a whole cavvie-vard o' white men's hosses, next time they git a chanct." "Ye're a d----d Philistine, Curly," said Battersleigh calmly.
"I'm sorry for them," repeated Franklin, thoughtfully, as he sat idly fingering the lump of clay that lay between his feet.