"Hummin'-birds don't have no finger-nails," corrected Shorty Palmer.

"Sure they don't," allowed Bill. "But you c'd write it on one if they
did."

"They has claws," persisted Shorty. "B'sides, no hummin'-bird ain't
goin' t' stay still long enough for you to write on his claw."

"I know that, too," said Bill. "That thing I was sayin' is what's called
a figger o' speech. Same as 'independent as a hog on ice,' or 'dead as
a door nail.' Ev'body knows them things ain't independent or dead. It's
just a fancy way o' expressin' yourself. Can't you give a feller credit
for no 'magination?"

"Oh, you got 'magination all right," Shorty agreed. "You ain't in no
ways hampered by facts. But, anyway, we wasn't talkin' 'bout Injuns."

"No, but we was goin' to," retorted Bill, "for I was about t' d'rect th'
conversation in them channels when you makes them ign'rant
interruptions."

"Oh, go on an' talk, Bill," Jim Walker broke in. "Don't pertend that
Shorty, nor th' whole United States Army, c'd stop you if you wanted t'
chin."

Thus urged Bill began his discourse. "What started my mind workin' on
this here Injun question was somethin' that come up to-day," he said.
"John Big Moose bein' gone, you know, Mr. Sherwood writes me that Injun
an' Whitey is t' go to school over to th' Forks. So on my way back from