"
"That's so!" said the Agent. "So I am; I am determined to break up
this vile business of selling whiskey to Indians. It is no use trying
to do anything for them while they are made drunk in this way; it's
a sin and a shame."
"Thet's so, I allow ter yeow," said Aunt Ri. "Thar ain't any
gainsayin' thet. But ef yeow've got power ter git a man put in jail
fur sellin' whiskey 't 'n Injun, 'n' hain't got power to git him
punished ef he goes 'n' kills thet Injun, 't sems ter me thar's suthin'
cur'us abaout thet."
"That is just the trouble in my position here, Aunt Ri," he said. "I
have no real power over my Indians, as I ought to have."
"What makes yer call 'em yeour Injuns?" broke in Aunt Ri.
The Agent colored. Aunt Ri was a privileged character, but her
logical method of questioning was inconvenient.
"I only mean that they are under my charge," he said. "I don't mean
that they belong to me in any way."
"Wall, I allow not," retorted Aunt Ri, "enny more 'n I dew. They air
airnin' their livin', sech 's 'tis, ef yer kin call it a livin'.
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