Indian Scout

An old Wild West fort is about to be attacked. The wily old
general sends for his trusty Indian scout. “You must use all
your thirty years of skill in trying to estimate the sort of
army we are up against here.”

The trusty Indian scout lies down and puts his ear to the
ground. “Heap large war party,” he says, “maybe three
hundred braves, four chiefs, two on black stallions, two on
white stallions. All have war paint. Many many guns.
Medicine man also with them.”

“Good grief!” exclaims the general. “You can tell all of
that just by listening to the ground?”

“No,” replies the Indian, “I can see under the gate.”


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