for a Greaser's opinion regarding a horse."

"Turkey eggs is too rich for my blood," said Bob Blades, rising from
the game. "I don't care a continental who wins the egg now, for
whenever I get three queens pat beat by a four card draw, I have
misgivings about the deal. And old Quince thinks he can stack cards.
He couldn't stack hay."

"Speaking about Mexicans and Indians," said Wyatt Roundtree, "I've got
more use for a good horse than I have for either of those grades of
humanity. I had a little experience over east here, on the cut off
from the Chisholm trail, a few years ago, that gave me all the Injun I
want for some time to come. A band of renegade Cheyennes had hung
along the trail for several years, scaring or begging passing herds
into giving them a beef. Of course all the cattle herds had more or
less strays among them, so it was easier to cut out one of these than
to argue the matter. There was plenty of herds on the trail then, so
this band of Indians got bolder than bandits. In the year I'm speaking
of, I went up with a herd of horses belonging to a Texas man, who was
in charge with us. When we came along with our horses--only six men
all told--the chief of the band, called Running Bull Sheep, got on the
bluff bigger than a wolf and demanded six horses. Well, that Texan
wasn't looking for any particular Injun that day to give six of his
own dear horses to. So we just drove on, paying no attention to Mr.
Bull Sheep. About half a mile farther up the trail, the chief overtook
us with all his bucks, and they were an ugly looking lot. Well, this
time he held up four fingers, meaning that four horses would be
acceptable. But the Texan wasn't recognizing the Indian levy of
taxation that year. When he refused them, the Indians never parleyed a
moment, but set up a 'ki yi' and began circling round the herd on