"Hello, Henderson," said Jim. "What can I do for you?"
"Us boys is going out tomorrow. We ain't going to live like Injuns!"
Jim's heart sank. He already was behind on the work. "What's the matter with the way we live?" he asked.
"Young fella," said the man pityingly, "I've worked all over the world, including New York. And I'm telling you that when you try to mix colors in camp, you've got to grade their ways of living. Now I went to Mr. Williams, but he's one of these queer nuts who thinks what's good enough for an Injun is good enough for anyone."
Jim knew that this was in truth Iron Skull's attitude. He had had no idea, however, that it might breed trouble. He thought rapidly, then spoke slowly.
"Look here, Henderson, what would you do in my place? The Director of the Service sends out word he'll be here to look the dam site over next month. I want to get the road ready for him to get down there. For six months I've tried to keep a hundred white men on the job and I can't do it. I'll give the Indians a camp of their own. But will that keep you men here?"
Henderson looked at Jim keenly to see whether or not Jim was sincerely asking his advice. Jim suddenly smiled at his evident perplexity and that flashing wistful look got under the red-faced man's skin.
"Well," he said, "if I was trying to keep men on a job I'd make things pleasant for 'em."
"You have everything I have," said Jim. "I eat with you."