“Watch your animals, Dave,” cautioned Jim. “A mules hates Injuns wuss ’n a rattlesnake.”
And Davy hung tight.
The Indians bore down at full gallop, as if to cut the wagon off. But at sight of the guns in the hands of Hi and Jim and Billy, when within a hundred yards they reined in sharply and the leader threw up his hand, palm outward. Hi answered with similar sign. He rode forward halfway, so did the Indian; they met.
“’Rapahoes,” exclaimed both Billy and Jim.
“Regular beggars,” commented the Reverend, easily. “Hi’ll fix them.”
Hi and the Arapaho leader came riding toward the wagon, and the others in the band slowly edged closer. They were armed mainly with bows and spears, and did not look very formidable.
“Just a lot of rascals out on a thieving expedition, picking up what they can from the emigrants,” announced Hi. “But of course they claim to be ‘good.’ The chief here’ll show you his recommendations.”
The chief (who was a villainous appearing old fellow, cross-eyed and marked by small-pox and wearing a dirty ragged blanket) passed from one to another of the Hee-Haw company, saying “How, how?” and shaking hands and extending a bit of dingy paper.
When the paper reached Davy he read:
“This Indian is Old Smoke. He’ll steal the tail off a mule. Watch him and pass him along.