"Yes, I see them redskin devils tote firewood," broke in Tracy. "If there's anything an Indian despises it's work. They won't even walk when the snow is belly deep. I've seen six of 'em on one little cayuse wallerin' through big drifts at timber line. Why, durn their pictures, a Ute won't cook if he can beg a bite anywhere, let alone plow, and he'll freeze to death afore gettin' wood for a fire if thar's a squaw within a mile to git it fur him. The trapper told us you would git yer fill of Injuns."
Bill crossed his legs and then uncrossed them again, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and his neck began to swell. He wanted to say something right bad. Pulling a string off his buckskin pants leg, he commenced tying it into knots, nervously fingering the ends.
"Them gol durned skule teachers is all right back in the old red skule-house in—in Missouri," he said, "but kingdom cum, when they try to make them blanket Injuns plow it's time fur white folks in Middle Park to put up a stockade and lay in lots of 45-90's for Sharp's old reliable, and a dozen or two Colts' frontier sixes. Them's my sentiments, and don't yer ferget it."
"Bill hit the nail on the head," echoed Tracy.
Jack was studying the red, gleaming eyes of the pine knots, and the moccasin prints in the snow on the high divide seemed to gather again in the ashes. He started suddenly, as if an inspiration struck him.
"Boys, it will come to it. That bunch down in the willows have been off the reservation a long time. Meeker can't get them back without a regiment of soldiers, and he hasn't got along that far yet. Susan is the 'woman in the case,' and she's putting the young bucks into a trance about encroaching white folks, while the old fighters, like Colorow and Douglas, sneak up behind and pat her on the back. Ignacio, Yamanatz—not even old Ouray—can stop them if they once get a supply of powder and lead. Wait until the next annuities are paid in and Uncle Sam will have to send a burying squad over there. They will not do anything for some time; they haven't any meat, no bullets to kill deer with, not even salt." Jack stopped for a breath and Tracy took up the conversation.
"I seen yer was good and strong agin' Colorow when yer found out he was here, but I didn't know it was that bad. 'Peers to me yer must have had a grudge agin' him wuss'n yer hev let on."
"Yes," echoed Bill, "s—s—sumthin' must a s—s—set yer afire down below."
"Well, Bill and Tracy, that old scalp-lifter followed me like a shadow for two days, ready at any moment, if chance presented, to plant the steel in a spot where it would take, as they say when you are vaccinated."
The frontiersmen both jumped to their feet with one impulse to get hold of their "Sharps," as if to use them at once. Thus does habit breed in that rugged life. Then they sat down and listened to the rest of the story wherein Jack told of Yamanatz's warnings, of young Colorow's early mission to see if white man Jack was in his camp. But he left the most interesting story until the last, then mentioned no names, "And who do you suppose followed Colorow to see that no harm came to me?"