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Bower, B. M., 1871-1940

"Good Indian"


"I like to lay in the hay," he added lifelessly. "I guess I'll
take my bed up there; that lean-to is awful hot."
"Well, you're lucky that you can do exactly as you please, and
sleep whenever you please." Miss Georgie turned to her telegraph
instrument, and began talking in little staccato sparks of
electricity to the agent at Shoshone, merely as a hint to
Saunders to take himself away.
"Ain't been anything for me?" he asked, still lingering.
Miss Georgie shook her head. He waited a minute longer, and then
sidled out, and when he was heard crunching over the cinders with
his barrow-load of boxes, she switched off the current abruptly,
and went over to the window to watch him.
"Item," she began aloud, when he was quite gone, her eyes staring
vacantly down the scintillating rails to where they seemed to
meet in one glittering point far away in the desert." Item--"
But whatever the item was, she jotted it down silently in that
mental memorandum book which was one of her whims.


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