He’d been crossing the prairie for eight days. Jordie Keller figured he had another couple-dozen more to go before he’d reach Fort Bridger.

Head down, he didn’t see it as he trudged up the incline. It was near the top that he saw that he had inadvertently trespassed into an Indian burial ground.

Remembering the Old-timer’s stories, Jordie began walking backward, stepping in his tracks as he worked his way back down the incline. Once at the bottom, he dug out his tobacco pouch and offered four healthy pinches of the shredded brown leaves to the four corners of the earth.

His final offering was given as he turned around.

That’s when he discovered that he had an audience: three Braves, two armed with spears and a third with an arrow nocked and aimed at him. Jordie Keller didn’t understand their words as they spoke rapidly between themselves.

“Did you see that?” one of the Braves with a spear asked.

The other spear-armed Brave answered, “Never. It’s a good thing. Honorable.”

With a scowl on his face the third Brave, the one with the bow and arrow, replied, “Fools, he’s still a White man,” as he let the shaft fly.

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