y
has to give Bill their wickeyup.

"When Bill's outfit's fully ready to deal for blood they picks out some
bright afternoon. The Saucy Willow's fam'ly is goin' about lookin'
partic'lar harmless an' innocent; but they're coony enough to be in camp
that day. A procession starts from the Crooked Claw camp. Thar's
The-man-who-steps-high at the head b'arin' a flag, union down, an'
riotin' along behind is Tom Six-killer, The-man-who-sleeps, the Wild Cat
and others leadin' five ponies an' packin' kettles, flour, beef, an'
sim'lar pillage. They lays it all down an' stakes out the broncos about
fifty yards from Strike Axe's camp an' withdraws.

"Then some old squaw of the Strike Axe outfit issues forth an' throws the
broncos loose. That's to show that the Saucy Willow is a onusual
excellent young squaw an' pop'lar with her folks, an' they don't aim to
shake her social standin' by acceptin' sech niggard terms.

"But the Crooked Claw outfit ain't dismayed, an' takes this rebuff
phlegmatic. It's only so much ettyquette; an' now it's disposed of they
reorganise to lead ag'in to win. This time they goes the limit, an'
brings up fifteen ponies an' stacks in besides with blankets, robes,
beef, flour, calico, kettles, skillets, and looking-glasses enough to
fill eight waggons. This trip the old Strike Axe squaw onties the
fifteen ponies an' takin' 'em by their ropes brings 'em in clost to the
Strike Axe camp, tharby notifyin' the Crooked Claw band that their bluff
for the Saucy Willow is regyarded as feasible an' the nuptials goes.
With this sign, the Crooked Claws comes caperin' up to the Strike Axes
an' the latter fam'ly proceeds to rustle a profoosion of grub; an' with
that they all turns in an' eats old Strike Axe outen house an' home. The
'price' is split up among the Strike Axe bunch, shares goin' even to
second an' third cousins.

"Mebby she's a week later when dawns the weddin' day. Bill, who's been
lookin' a heap numb ever since these rites becomes acoote, goes
projectin' off alone onto the prairie. The Saucy Willow is hid in the
deepest corner of Strike Axe's teepee; which if she's visible, however,
you'd be shore amazed at the foolish expression she wears, but all as shy
an' artless as a yearlin' antelope.

"But it grows time to wind it up, an' one of the Strike Axe bucks climbs
into the saddle an' rides half way towards the camp of Crooked Claw.
Strike Axe an' Crooked Claw in antic'pation of these entangleme