He puffed hard on his cigarette, and thought harder.
Whitey broke the silence.

"Tell us a story, Bill," he suggested.
"I ain't exactly got no story in mind," Bill replied.

"We was talkin' 'bout folks, b'fore you an' Injun come, an' how they is apt t' be unjust, 'specially in th' way o' makin' laws an' such, an' it kind o' got me thinkin' serious; kind o' drove stories out o' my head." "Why, John Big Moose was talking about that the other day," Whitey exclaimed, "and how hard it is for one body of people to understand and sympathize with another, and about that sayin', 'Man's inhumanity to man makes countless thousands mourn.' Of course, you know that saying.
Bill ?" "'Course," answered Bill.

"My father was allus mentionin' of it." "Your old man was a blacksmith, wa'n't he, Bill ?" Buck Higgins asked.
"Sure." "Seems t' me 'twould 'a' bin more in the way o' sense if he'd talked 'bout man's unhumanness t' hosses," Buck said lightly.
Bill ignored this, and got back to the serious side of the subject.
"It's somethin' t' make a critter think," he declared.

"Take white folks an' Injuns, f'r instance.