body—oh, well, she has yet, too. Them scoundrels a firin' her out of her job in the school won't make anybody that knows her think the less of her."
"She realizes that, sir, I'm sure. But there must be a good many newcomers in this town that don't know her. That's where it'll hurt. But there's a day of reckonin' close, sir, mighty close! And when it comes, I tell you, Uncle Boley, that school-board'll go down on their knees to her, and they'll take off their hats to me, and stand to one side when I go by, and I'll bet you a purty they'll do it, sir!"
Uncle Boley was putting holes through the sole of a mighty boot, preparing it for the thread. He left his awl standing in the leather, his hammer free of his hand on the bench, and looked at Texas with sharp, questioning eyes.
"I thought you looked danged pert and rambunctious for a feller that ain't got no name or fame or character whatsomever, as the lawyer said. What's been happenin'?"
"Something happened, Uncle Boley, that put me in tune like a fiddle, and raised my heart up like a bird in the morning. A friend of mine struck town last night lookin' for me, a little Indian feller from down in the Nation, Bennie Chouteau by name, and he came bearin' proof that puts the responsibility for them southern cattle on Henry
