Smith put a fresh bandage on her arm, and praised the scrawling signature on the check which she had filled out after laborious and oft-repeated efforts. He made sure that she had the flour-sack, and that the check was pinned securely inside her capacious pocket, before he helped her in the wagon. He had been all attention that morning, and her eyes were liquid with gratitude and devotion as she and Meeteetse drove away. She turned before they were out of sight, and her face brightened when she saw Smith still looking after them. She thought comfortably of the fast approaching day when she would be envied by the women who had married only "bloods" or "breeds." Smith, as it happened, was remarking contemptuously to Tubbs, as he nodded after the disappearing wagon: "Don't that look like a reg'lar Injun outfit? One old white horse and a spotted buzzard-head; harness wired up with Mormon beeswax; a lopsided spring seat; one side-board gone and no paint on the wagon." "You'd think Meeteetse'd think more of hisself than to go ridin' around with a blanket-squaw." "He _said_ he was out of tobacer, but he probably aims to get drunk." "More'n likely," Tubbs agreed. "Meeteetse's gittin' to be a reg'lar squawman anyhow, hangin' around Injuns so much and runnin' with 'em. He believes in signs and dreams, and he ain't washed his neck for six weeks." "Associatin' too much with Injuns will spile a good man. Tubbs," Smith went on solemnly, "you ain't the feller you was when you come." "I knows it," Tubbs agreed plaintively. "I hain't half the gumption I had." "It hurts me to see a bright mind like yours goin' to seed, and there's nothin'll do harm to a feller quicker nor associatin' with them as ain't his equal. Tubbs, like you was my own brother, I says that bug-hunter ain't no man for you to run with." "He ain't vicious and the likes o' that," said Tubbs, in mild defense of his employer. "What's 'vicious' anyhow?" demanded Smith. "Who's goin' to say what's vicious and what ain't? I says it's vicious to lie like he does about them idjot skulls and ham-bones he digs out and brings home, makin' out that they might be pieces of fellers what could use one of them cotton-woods for a walkin' stick and et animals the size of that meat-house at a meal." "He never said jest that." "He might as well. What I'm aimin' at is that it's demoralizin' to get interested in things like that and spend your life diggin' up the dead. It's too tame for a feller of any spirit." "It's nowise dang'rous," Tubbs admitted. "If I thought you was my kind, Tubbs, I'd give you a chance. I'd let you in on a deal that'd be the makin' of you." "All I needs is a chanct," Tubbs declared eagerly. "I believe you," Smith replied, with flattering emphasis. A disturbing thought made Tubbs inquire anxiously: "This here chanct your speakin' of--it ain't work, is it?--real right-down work?" "Not degradin' work, like pitchin' hay or plowin'."