"Better for you mixed bloods," agreed Levine, "because you'll get higher prices for your land, but worse for us whites, for there'll be less land, unless--you mixed bloods should happen to swear the full bloods are mixed too."
No one spoke for a minute, then a fat, yellow-faced half-breed laughed. "I'll swear old Chief Dawn had a white great-grandmother. I'll get even with him, for throwing me out of the council."
"Exactly," said Levine. "It'll be a good way for all of you to pay up old debts. Any of Marshall's men been up here lately?"
After a pause, one of the younger Indians said, "Some young fellows been going through the woods measuring out a road and they acted like they was just out for a vacation when any one was around. A year ago I see one of the fellows riding out with Marshall."
Levine grunted. Lydia's heart was pounding so hard that it really pained her. She stared at John unbelievably. Yet it was the same familiar, sallow face, with the gaunt look about the cheeks. Only the eyes were strange. Lydia had never seen them so hard, so searching before. Kent was breathing deep and he did not loose his hold on her arm.
"Well," said Levine, "is that all you folks have got to report, after six months? What do you think I'm paying you for?"
An old mixed blood, almost as dark as a full blood, removed his pipe from his mouth. "All the shoes we buy this year made out of paper, cost four dollars, melt when they get wet. Woman at Last Chance tell me Injun Agent tell her he gets those shoes from Marshall."
"The hog!" grunted Levine. "Anything more?"
What more might have come Lydia did not know for an old squaw came tottering into the fire glow. She was gray headed and emaciated.
"Oh, that's our old squaw, Kent, remember?" whispered Lydia.
The squaw made her way up to John. There was something sinister in the look of her and he rose.
"What you do now, white man," she snarled. "Steal! Steal more, eh?"
Levine looked down on her and his voice was pitying. "Why, you poor old devil, you look half starved." He dug into his pocket and brought out a silver dollar. "Go get some grub," he said.
The old woman stared from the dollar to Levine's face and her voice rose to a shriek.
"Steal! Steal! Make our young men drunk! Make our young girls have babies that grow like these snakes," she pointed a trembling, scrawny finger at the scowling mixed bloods. "White man--dirty fool--dirty thief," and she spat at Levine, at the same time striking the dollar from his hand. It rolled out onto the needles and lay shining in the firelight.