Sunset Ranch: A Story of a Boy's Adventures in the West — page 238: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

226 The Raid on the Bad Lands. eyes open. Un’stand? Morning start—save .Polly —no shoot if can help.” “I don’t know,” commented Karl, ‘I’m for knock- ing that old rascal, Jasper what’s his name, on the head.” “No wise. Too many. They kill us. Then poor Polly.” And the expression on the brown face made Karl stretch out his hand impulsively. “Buckshot,” he said, “you’re the best Indian ’t ever lived. I’m not going to try to tell you what I think of you for doing this. I jest couldn’t do it. But I’m grateful, Buckshot.” And he shook the brown hand with a sincerity that left no room for doubt. Then they flung themselves down on the sparse grass, and lying there with the stars above and dead silence around, save for the weird sighing of the night wind among the rocks, the two boys chewed pemmican and indulged in serious reflections. When the time was up, according to the thinking of the Indian, he arose to his feet with a grunt. Karl eagerly followed his example, anxious to have a first view of this queer camp or settlement of - castaways in the Bad Lands. He had heard many stories about it from Old Sile and others whom some freak of fortune had thrown up against the evil spirits haunting this re- gion, and up to now such a thought as his ever be- holding the place had never entered Karl’s mind. These yarns, sometimes embellished to a great ex- tent by the love for magnifying adventures, had sur- rounded the place with an interest and mystery even beyond what it might naturally present. Perhaps something was due to the manner in which the Indian had led through the rugged coun- try, avoiding the regular trail, where a vidette might CoOnnicloOolkks.€©