“Very good. Have the old chap in.”
Youkeoma came wrathfully into the council-room. His anger was like that of a trapped animal; his eyes gleamed with hatred, and he fairly quivered with rage. All morning he had fumed, realizing that he had wasted ten days of perfectly good oratory and traditions. He squatted on the floor.
“This is your Agent,” said Colonel Scott. “He wants to shake hands with you.”
I held out my hand to him.
A MESA ROAD—OLD STYLE
The trail to Hotevilla
A PRETENTIOUS HOME AT HOTEVILLA
Youkeoma looked me over carefully, and drew his blanket around his shoulders as if he had been insulted.