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Bower, B. M., 1871-1940

"Good Indian"


Donny announced that he had been in the garden, and that Stanley
told him he would blow the top of his head off if he saw him
there again. "And I never done a thing to him!" he declared
virtuously.
Phoebe set down the coffee-pot with an air of decision.
"I want you boys to remember one thing," she said firmly, "and
that is that there must be no more shooting going on around here.
It isn't only what Baumberger thinks--I don't know as ho's got
anything to say about it--it's what _I_ think. I know I'm only a
woman, and you all consider yourselves men, whether you are or
not, and it's beneath your dignity, maybe, to listen to your
mother.
"But your mother has seen the day when she was counted on as
much, almost, as if she'd been a man. Why, great grief! I've
stood for hours peeking out a knot-hole in the wall, with that
same old shotgun Donny got hold of, ready to shoot the first
Injun that stuck his nose from behind a rock."
The color came into her cheeks at the memory, and a sparkle into
her eyes.


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