At an adjoining fire a long-haired Texan was ventilating his professed experience in the management of Indians “down thar.” Observing that Captain Boling was within hearing of his criticism, he turned, and without any intentional disrespect, said: “Cap., you orter a let me plunk it to one o’ them red skins up in the cañon thar. I’d a bin good for one, sure; and if I’d a had my way o’ treatin’ with Injuns, Cap., I reckon I’d a made a few o’ them squawk by this time.” Captain Boling was suffering from his bruises and sprained wrist, and he evidently was not pleased to hear these liberal criticisms, but knowing the element by which he was surrounded, he did not forget the policy of conciliating it in order to prevent any feelings of discontent from arising so soon after having assumed full command. He therefore quickly replied: “I have no especial regard for these Chow-chillas; you are probably aware of that, Jack; but the orders and instructions of the Commissioners will have to be disregarded if we shoot them down at sight. It would have been almost like deliberate murder to have killed those naked Indians to-day, because, Jack, you know _just_ what you can do with that rifle of yours. If you had fired you knew you was sure to kill; but the Indians did not know the danger there was in coming inside your range. It was lucky for the cowards that you did not shoot.” This allusion to the Texan’s skill with his rifle disposed of the subject as far as he was concerned, for he “turned in,” while a broad grin showed his satisfaction as he replied, “I reckon you’re about on the right trail now, Cap,” and disappeared under his blanket.