"We always tell them that it isn't the government that is putting them out, but they can't understand that. They say if the government can buy them or give them another home they might just as well let them stay. I think it is dreadful, dreadful for the people to drive them away."
"Yes, it is both sad and unjust, it seems to me," said their father; "but such has been the fate of the Indian ever since the white man landed on these shores. It has always been 'move on, move on'——"
"Till there isn't any more land to move to," interrupted Walter.
"There is going to be a Junta to-morrow or the day after," said Nellie. "The commissioners are coming to talk to them."
"A good many of them think they won't have to go, because Mr. Lummis is coming, papa," said Walter.
"That will not make any difference in one way," said their father, "though it may in another. Mr. Lummis is a true friend of the Indians. He will exert all his efforts to have them removed to a desirable place, where there will be plenty of water, fertile soil, and every other favorable condition."
"I heard a man say the other day to Captain Blacktooth that the Indians had not been here more than twenty-five years."
"And what did Cecilio answer?"
"He said, pointing to the graveyard: 'Look at our graves on the hillside. Some of those crosses crumble like ashes. Touch one, it falls to pieces in your hand. And yet there are crosses there fifty years old that have not begun to crumble or fall.'"
"What did the man say to that argument?"