"_Maybe_ you will go to Deadwood, and then, again, maybe ye won't,"
answered back Fearless Frank.

"More or less!" chimed in the general--"consider'bly more of less than
less of more. Look out thet ther allies uv Sittin' Bull don't git ther
_dead wood_ on ye."

On marched the train--steadily on over the level, sandy plain, and
Fearless Frank and his strange companion turned their attention to the
cries that had been the means of separating them from the train. They
had ceased now, altogether, and the two men were at a loss what to do.

"Guv a whoop, like a Government Injun," suggested "General" Nix; "an'
thet'll let ther critter know thet we be friends a-comin'. Par'ps
she'm g'in out ontirely, a-thinkin' as no one war a-comin' ter her
resky!"

"She, you say?"

"Yas, she; fer I calkylate 'twern't no _he_ as made them squawks. Sing
out like a bellerin' bull, now, an' et ar' more or less
likely--consider'bly more of less 'n less of more--that she will
respond!"

Fearless Frank laughed, and forming his hands into a trumpet he gave
vent to a loud, ear-splitting "hello!" that made the prairies ring.

"Great whale uv Joner!" gasped the "General," holding his hands toward
the region of his organs of hearing. "Holy Mother o' Mercy! don't do