“Do I?” queried the other with a grim smile. “Well here’s another nice leetle caper o’ theirs: Bud Wilson’s wife writ home to her folks in Massachusetts detailin’ some o’ the facts concernin’ the sackin’ o Osawatamie, an’ addin’ a few words in her own language in comments, etc., on certain actions o’ the Territory militia (Missouri roughs), an’ her folks let the newspapers have the whole story. My soul! The Rangers came over from this side under that devil, Bill Thomson, an’ one mornin’ when Bud was gone they went to the house an’ took his ol’ woman inter the woods an’ pulled her tongue out as far as possible an’ tide it to a sapling. Well, I won’t pain yer feelin’s by recountering the rest o’ the po’ critter’s sufferin’s, but they was the mos’ dreadfulles’ that you can imagine, until she mercifully gave up the ghos’ and ex-pired. How’s that strike you?” “My God!” exclaimed Warren, shuddering with horror. “Here’s another: These same Kickapoo Rangers, Bill Thomson captaing, marched to Leavenworth an’ took Capt. R. P. Brown (no relation to Capt. John Brown) prisoner, he surrenderin’ himself and men on certain conditions. Immejuntly the terms of that surrender was violated. One young feller was knocked down, an’ a Ranger was goin’ to cut him with his hatchet (Thomson has ’em all carry hatchets so as to skulp the foe like Injuns do), and Capt. Brown prevented him. After that they re--moved the Captaing up to Easton an’ put him in a separate buildin’ away from his men. Then the devils rushed on him an’ beat him to the floor an’ cut him in the head with their hatchets, one wound bein’ many inches long an’ enterin’ the brain. The gallant Captaing was at the mercy of his enemies then, an’ they jumped on him an’ kicked him. Desperately wounded, he still lived; an’ as they kicked him, he said, ‘Don’t abuse me; it is useless; I am dying.’ Then one of the wretches--Bill himself--leaned over the posterate man an’ squirted terbacco juice into his eyes. Them’s our leetle ways o’ doin’ things in free Ameriky, Mr. Britisher, when other folks talks too free or dares to have opinions o’ thar own without askin’ our permission to so think contrairy agin us. Yes, sir, I’m a John Brown man. I go with Brown because I can do as I please--more in-dependent-like--than as if I was with Jim Lane, ’though I’ll low Lane’s gittin’ in some fine work, an’ we’ll swing Kansas inter line as a free State quicker’n scat when we git down to bisiness. It’s these things brings me on this side noysterin’ roun’ lookin’ fer em-ployment.” “I’m a pretty good shot, Mr. Maybee, and after I finish this matter for the firm, I should like nothing better than to put myself and my pistols at the disposal of Mr. Brown,” said Warren sternly, with flashing eyes. Mr. Maybee ejected a small stream of tobacco juice from his mouth and smoothed the end of the board he was whittling, to his entire satisfaction, before replying.