by itself out in the moonlight. I headed for it, hollering murder.

A man came to the door in his under-rigging.

"Hi, there! What's eating you?" he yells.

"Injuns coming, pardner! The country's just oozing Injuns! Better
get a wiggle on you!"

"All right--slide along, I'll ketch up to you," says he.

I looked back and saw him hustling out with his saddle on his arm.
"He's a particular kind of cuss," I thought; "bareback would suit
most people."

Taking it a little easier for the next couple of miles, I gave him
a chance to pull up.

We pounded along without saying anything for a spell, when I
happened to notice that his teeth were chattering.

"Keep your nerve up, pardner!" says I. "Don't you get
scared--we've got a good start on 'em."

He looked at me kind of reproachful.

"Scared be derned!" says he. "I reckon if you was riding around
this nice cool night in your drawers, _your_ teeth 'ud rattle some,
too."