"He's rather jerky now 'count of his not knowin' our langwidge very well, for one thing, an' from bein' in th' habit of concealin' his thoughts from white men--like all other Injuns--for another thing." Now you, who read this, must know by this time how well Bill Jordan liked to tell things and to prove them--if he could; and if he couldn't make the other fellow believe they were true, to think up something the other fellow couldn't answer; and if he couldn't do that, to go away before the other could think of an answer.

We all have known boys or men of this sort, and, being human, we don't like to have them assuming that they know more than we do.

That is, we don't like it all the time.
And this sort of feeling was stirring in that bunk house, at that moment.

And finally Charlie Bassett spoke.
"Bill," he said, "you're allus tellin' us somethin' 'bout somethin' what we don't know nothin' 'bout, with th' idee of gettin' us t' think you're a pretty wise feller.

Now, all this you've bin tellin' us 'bout Injuns _sounds_ reason'ble, but if you want us to really b'lieve it, you've got t' show us.