The Schoolmarm beamed encouragement.
“ I’m glad of that.”
“ I used to kill Injuns for fifty dollars a head, but I wouldn’t do it now,” he said virtuously, adding: “I’d get my neck stretched.”
“ You’ve killed people—Indians—for money!” The Schoolmarm looked at him, wide-eyed with horror.
“ They was clutterin’ up the range,” Smith explained patiently, “and the cattlemen needed it for their stock. I’d ’a’ killed ’em for nothin’, but when ’twas offered, I might as well get the bounty.”
The Schoolmarm scarcely knew what to say; his explanation seemed so entirely satisfactory to himself.
“ I’m glad those dreadful days have gone.”
“ They’re gone all right,” Smith answered sourly. “They make dum near as much fuss over an Injun as a white man now, and what with jumpin’ up deputies at e
