That's good enough for a Digger! The ferry's been taken off, but the
water is not so high."
The old Indian scowled, and the young bucks began a guttural complaint
which he silenced with a gesture and a grunt of command.
"Water is cold, and those," pointing to the sheep, "have passed."
"You go back, I tell you! I hate every filthy brute of you! My best pal
was sent to glory in that funeral fire on Murderer's Bar, and no Indian
will ever get aught from me."
"Me pay," said the Indian leader slowly, "Me pay cayuse, me pay boy."
"No, you won't pay! You'll go back and wade the river like the low
beasts that you are."
The chief began a fierce oration. Longley ran into the tollhouse and
came out with a sawed-off shotgun.
"Now, will you go?" he cried, defiantly.
The Indians were sober, and they went. As they came abreast of the pier
under the bridge the toll-keeper jeered and laughed at them, and pelted
them with rocks.
They looked up with hate, but went stolidly on their way.
With darkness, the roistering at the barbecue became louder.
Pages:
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89