[p. 244]

At length, after driving several miles, Mike turned to Reuben, a curious expression in his round, good-humored face.

"It’s a roight foine marnin’ for a brush wid the Injuns out here," he remarked.

"With the Indians? You are not anticipating such a contingency as that, I hope," replied Reuben.

"Shure, Injuns or Mormons, it made little difference to the poor craythurs in the Mountain Meadow job. The onnathral brutes gave ’em no time to find out which; but do you hear the clatter and splather of horses behint us?"