"Well," said Levine, "is that all you folks have got to report, after six months? What do you think I'm paying you for?"
An old mixed blood, almost as dark as a full blood, removed his pipe from his mouth. "All the shoes we buy this year made out of paper, cost four dollars, melt when they get wet. Woman at Last Chance tell me Injun Agent tell her he gets those shoes from Marshall."
"The hog!" grunted Levine. "Anything more?"
What more might have come Lydia did not know for an old squaw came tottering into the fire glow. She was gray headed and emaciated.
"Oh, that's our old squaw, Kent, remember?" whispered Lydia.
"Shut up!" murmured Kent.
The squaw made her way up to John. There was something sinister in the look of her and he rose.
"What you do now, white man," she snarled. "Steal! Steal more, eh?"
Levine looked down on her and his voice was pitying. "Why, you poor old devil, you look half starved." He dug into his pocket and brought out a silver dollar. "Go get some grub," he said.
The old woman stared from the dollar to Levine's face and her voice rose to a shriek.