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Show 298 WESTERN WILDS. man, almost barbarous for the occasion, sitting astride the bow shout-ing in wretched Spanish and mixed Navajo, and sometimes plunging into the shore- mud or swift stream, where a little swimming had to be done. " We would toil until steaming with sweat, and then into the river, which felt like ice- water. Nobody ever " catches cold" in this country, or I should have expected a musical case of asthma and catarrh as a result. In the middle of our work a woman came to the opposite bank, but the wind had risen to such a blast that we could not converse, and I could barely make out the words, " old man, to- morrow." At night the wind fell ; the woman reappeared, and shouted that in three days the " old man " would return ; if we had provisions it would be safest to wait. Next morning our horses presented fine sub-jects for the study of anatomy. We must risk it; so, taking John and Espanol, I shoved off', and, taking advantage of an eddy, reached the opposite side only a mile below. Making our way to the house, I was greeted by the woman with : " My God, stranger, did you risk your life to swim that river ?" An explanation and request for provisions resulted in the statement : " We are pretty thin ourselves." If we had put up a white signal Saturday, " the old gent would have come down at once, but he thought it was only Injins. Had gone Sunday with his other woman to the ranche near Kanab. These were the other woman's four chil-dren here ; had five of her own, making a right smart family of nine, ' thout the old gent, but none of ' em big enough to risk the boat; had no meat, and only ten pounds o' flour, but plenty of milk, butter, cheese and eggs would they do ?" I rather thought they would, and requested that about five pounds of each might be served up at once. She got me a splendid breakfast, and gave the Indians a plentiful supply, lending them also a kettle. She gave me the oars with which we could cross at will ; but to cross the horses we must wait till " Ma-jor Doyle," as she named the " old man," came back. Two days passed, and our horses were hungry enough to chew sand- burrs and desert weed. The days I spent at the cabin, talking to the Mormon woman ; the nights on the other side, sleeping or listening to the old man's stories about his people. They were all of a piece: the Navajoes had been very rich they were now poor; they were great warriors and good Indians. But the Utes were dogs, and the Apaches wolves and snakes, and the Zunis ground- hogs, and the Mclicanoes never would have whipped the Navajoes if they hiul not got other Indians to help them. In short, his harangue sounded so |
