This was in the manner of a personal challenge, as if he had said: "Who the deuce are you? Knock the chip off my shoulder if you dare." Ted looked at him for a moment, for Crazy Cow was staring at him with an impertinent look in his face. "I don't care who you are," said Ted, who was disgusted with the fellow's airs. "If you were the chief himself, I would tell you to keep away from my cows and ponies. What is the son of a chief? Nothing!" The tone in which Ted said this was such that the young Indian flushed a deeper red, and grasped his rifle harder. "I am an educated Indian," said Crazy Cow, "and as good as any white man. This is my country, and I shall go wherever I please." "Go where you will, except on my ranch. Keep off that." The Indian shrugged his shoulders. "I go where I please. You, whoever you are, have no right to prevent me from going anywhere. Who are you to talk to me like that?" "My name is Ted Strong. I am a deputy United States marshal. Do you know what that is?" "Yes. I spit on them." "Well, here's one you won't spit on. That's a cinch. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a man who got his education free from the United States, to talk that way." "Bah! I hate the United States which robbed my people of their lands, and then made treaties only to break them. Since they have driven me into the mountains they owe me a living, and I'm going to collect it." "Very well, only be careful how you do it. I have said enough." "Ted Strong talks big and much, but does nothing. He is a coward who is afraid of the Indian." "I am not afraid of you. I think I have shown it." "Yes, but you ran when I surprised you by the stream." "My pony ran, and to keep from losing him I clung to him." "It was a good thing for you that he did run. If he hadn't, you would never have gone home again, and the buzzards and vultures, assisted by the prairie wolves, would have you by now." "Big talk means nothing. You are not a fighter, you are a squaw. You are a fool and a boaster." "No, I am a chief, and a warrior. I have seen the blood of the white man flow, and I drank it. I am brave." "You're full of hot air. Run along now; I'm disgusted with you." "Hah! White squaw afraid to fight. Go back to your camp, and cook the meals and wash the clothes in the tub." Crazy Cow made motions, of scrubbing at a tub. At this the other Indians burst into laughter. "You are but an idle boaster, Crazy Cow. You make much noise like the wind in the trees. That is all it amounts to. You do not make me feel bad by what you say." Crazy Cow, seeing that he could not get Ted angry with his banter, tried a new tack. "Hah, little bay pony," he cried, addressing Bingo. "Are you a squaw pony?" He paused in a listening attitude as if he was paying close attention to what the pony was saying. "Yes, you are ashamed to be ridden by a squaw who does not fight, but only talks. Come over here, squaw pony, and be ridden by a man."