“But tell me,” said I, addressing Seguin, “who is the Indian?—he who performed the wild feat of shooting the—”
“Ah! El Sol; he is a Coco.”
“A Coco?”
“Yes; of the Maricopa tribe.”
“But that makes me no wiser than before. I knew that much already.”
“You knew it? Who told you?”
“I heard old Rube mention the fact to his comrade Garey.”
“Ay, true; he should know him.” Seguin remained silent.
“Well?” continued I, wishing to learn more. “Who are the Maricopas? I have never heard of them.”
“It is a tribe but little known, a nation of singular men. They are foes of the Apache and Navajo; their country lies down the Gila. They came originally from the Pacific, from the shores of the Californian Sea.”