“Feather-in-the-Wind is watching Boss Bob,” he said quietly. “Greasers in show last night make big talk. Swear much. They hurt you because you help me. When you go out I follow. Now I go home with you.”
Bob was overcome with astonishment. Not for a minute had he thought that the episode of last night would have brought on him more than the passing enmity of the Mexicans, but he realized that the Apache probably knew what he was about. Then it came to him that if there was bad blood between the Indians and Mexicans, in all probability Feather-in-the-Wind would know if there was any trouble brewing amongst the Mexicans themselves.
“It was good of you,” he said as gravely as the Indian had spoken. “But you can help me further perhaps.”
Feather-in-the-Wind signified his willingness to do what he could by a nod of his head.
“Your people and the Mexicans—they do not get along together?”
Again a nod.
“You like Big Boss Whitney?”
“Big Boss good to my people. Not let storekeeper cheat or Greaser hurt,” was the answer.
“You want to help the Big Boss?”
Once more a gesture of assent.