“They have been over here four times now,” he said; “But they haven’t quite got up the nerve to start anything.”
At least fifty Hopi Indians had gathered; they stood apart, watching and waiting.
“Have you men any money with you, cash?” I asked them.
The Hopi can always be counted on to have something for a rainy day, and it was very likely to storm.
“I’ve got five dollars,” said one.
“Get what you can from the others. One hundred will not be too much.” And then to others who were stockmen: “Have you fellows any cattle in this wash?”
“Our cattle are off there,” pointing.
“It’s this way,” I explained. “We can’t fight that gang. The boy will die soon. I’ll have to buy them off. How many steers can I have from your several bunches?”
This was quite in line with the Hopi method of dealing with the aggressive Navajo, who had oppressed them so long. They held a rapid discussion and came to quick decision.
“What you need for it,” said the spokesman.