He acted like me, he thought like me, and take the paint and braids off him, and by God he looked like me: even the red skin was just weather, and I’ve been darker myself out east. If there was a difference, it was that I suspected (after Greasy Grass) he was brave, poor lad. I think he probably was; got that from Cleonie’s side, no doubt. As to his deep nature, though, I can’t tell; I doubt if he was as big a blackguard as I am, but then he was only half my age. And being so like me, he undoubtedly had the gift of concealing his character.
Flashman and the Redskins, p.342, Pan Books edition, 1983.
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