"Well, I guess we are square now. Shake!"
And the Indian stretched out a brawny fist.
THEY WERE WINED AND DINED AT THE EXPENSE OF THE GOVERNMENT.
They were two big burly Indians. The long eagle feather in the hat of one who is known as "chief" and the bright red ostrich tip in the sombrero of the other would have told that if the unmistakable features had not evidenced it. A government employee, it matters not who, but one who may possibly in certain events happening make a "stake" out of the tribe to which these Indians belong, was doing the honors of the capitol and showing the braves about the corridors. They left the Indian committee-room and came to the door of the house restaurant.
"Let's have a bite to eat," suggested the man with the graft.
"All right," was the quick reply of the aborigines.
At the luncheon counter the one who could master the most English asked, "Guv'munt pay?"
"Oh, yes," responded the host thinking that the quickest way to inform them that they would not have to stand good for the bill.
"Ugh!" grunted the brave, "we eat lot, Guv'munt pay." And they did—four cups of coffee each, half a dozen hard-boiled eggs, three ham sandwiches, one dozen doughnuts, a whole baked chicken, ice cream, a whole pie each and besides that a thirst for fire-water that was absolutely appalling. The luncheon counter looked as though a cyclone might have paid it a visit by the time the Indians got through, and the bill that the "Guv'munt" clerk had to foot made his week's salary look like 30 cents.
"Guv'munt heap good," grunted the brave as he picked his teeth in true "white brother" fashion in the corridor. "We eat here again." But it will not be in company with that particular clerk.