But he had
lived long among the Osage, Kiowa and Pawnee Indians, and he was
renowned throughout all the Southwestern country for his bravery, skill
and eccentricity. An Indian had killed a white man and eaten his heart.
He captured the Indian and compelled him to eat until he died. When his
favorite bear dog died he rode sixty miles and brought a minister to
preach a sermon over his body. A little boy was captured on the
outskirts of a settlement by some Comanche Indians. He followed them
alone for three hundred miles, stole the boy away from them in the
night, and carried him back safely to his father and mother.
Such was the Ring Tailed Panther, a name that he had originally given to
himself and which the people had adopted, one who boasted that he feared
no man, the boast being true. He was heavily armed and he rode a black
and powerful horse, which he directed straight toward the place where
Ned and Obed were sitting.
"You are Ned Fulton an' Obed White, if report tells no lie?" he said in
a deep growling voice.
"We are," said Ned, who did not know the identity of their formidable
visitor.
"So I knew. I just wanted to see if you'd deny it. Glad to meet you,
gentlemen. As for me, I'm the Ring Tailed Panther.
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