CHAPTER XII.
Bill Connors of the Osages.
"Nacherally, if you-all is frettin' to hear about Injuns," observed the Old Cattleman in reply to my latest request, "I better onfold how Osage Bill Connors gets his wife.

Not that thar's trouble in roundin' up this squaw; none whatever.

She comes easy; all the same said tale elab'rates some of them savage customs you're so cur'ous concernin'." My companion arose and kicked together the logs in the fireplace.

This fireplace was one of the great room's comforts as well as ornaments.

The logs leaped into much accession of flame, and crackled into sparks, and these went gossiping up the mighty chimney, their little fiery voices making a low, soft roaring like the talk of bees.
"This chimley draws plenty successful," commented my friend.