“Yes, I see,” said Joe quickly—“three Indians with spears.”
“Right, lad!”
“I don’t see them,” said Brazier. “Yes,” he added quickly, “I can see them now.”
“Only one ain’t got a spear. That’s a blowpipe,” said Shaddy quietly.
“What! that length?” cried Rob. “Ay, my lad, that length. The longer they are the smaller the darts, and the farther and stronger they sends ’em.”
“But we don’t know that they are enemies,” said Brazier.
“Oh yes, you do, sir. That’s the Injuns’ country, and there’s no doubt about it. White man’s their enemy, they say, so they must be ours.”
“But why?” said Rob. “We shouldn’t interfere with the Indians.”
“We’ve got a bad character with ’em, my lad. ’Tain’t our fault. They tell me it’s all along o’ the Spaniards as come in this country first, and made slaves of ’em, and learnt ’em to make ’em good, and set ’em to work in the mines to get gold and silver for ’em till they dropped and died. Only savages they were, and so I s’pose the Spaniards thought they weren’t o’ no consequence. But somehow I s’pose, red as they are, they think and feel like white people, and didn’t like to be robbed and beaten, and worn to death, and their children took away from ’em. Spaniards never seemed to think as they’d mind that. Might ha’ known, too, for a cat goes miaowing about a house if she loses her kittens, and a dog kicks up a big howl about its pups; while my ’sperience about wild beasts is that if you want to meddle with their young ones, you’d better shoot the old ones first.”
“Yes, I’m afraid that the old Spaniards thought of nothing out here but getting gold.”