stole them hosses."

"Well," he says, "we got 'em, anyhow. And if they try to arrest us
without a warrant there'll be the deuce to pay. But they aren't going
to make any more trouble. I know these country crooks. They've got no
stomach for trouble outside their own township."

Which made me feel considerable better, fur I never been of the opinion
that going agin the law done any one no good.

They looks around in that wagon, and all their stuff was there--Jake
Smith and the squire having kep' it all together careful to make things
seem more legal, I suppose--and the doctor was plumb tickled, and Looey
felt as cheerful as he ever felt about anything. So the doctor says they
has everything they needs but some ready money, and he'll get that sure,
fur he never seen the time he couldn't.

"But, Looey," he says, "I'm done with country hotels from now on.
They've got the last cent they ever will from me--at least in the summer
time."

"How you going to work it?" Looey asts him, like he hasn't no hopes it
will work right.

"Camp out," says the doctor. "I've been thinking it all over." Then he
turns to me. "Rube," he says, "where are you going?"

"Well," I says, "I ain't pinted nowhere in pertic'ler except away from
that town we just left. Which my name ain't Rube, Doctor Kirby, but
Danny."

"Danny what?" asts he.

"Nothing," says I, "jest Danny."

"Well, then, Danny," says he, "how would you like to be an Indian?"

"Medical?" asts I, "or real?"

"Like Looey," says he.

I tells him being a medical Injun and mixed up with a show like his'n
would suit me down to the ground, and asts him what is the main duties
of one besides the blankets and the feathers.

"Well," he says, "this camping-out scheme of mine will take a couple of
Indians. Instead of paying hotel and feed bills we'll pitch our tent,"
he says, "at the edge of town in each sweet Auburn of the plains. We'll
save money and we'll be near the throbbing heart of nature. And an
Indian camp in each place will be a good advertisement for the Sagraw.
You can look after the horses and learn to do the cooking and that kind
o' thing. And maybe after while," he says, kind o' working himself up to
where he thought it was going to be real nice, "maybe after while I will
give you some insight into the hidden mysteries of selling Siwash Indian
Sagraw."

"Well," says I, "I'd like to learn that."

"Would you?" says he, kind o' laughing at himself and me too, and yet