But it was not with the Indian as an idea, a memory, that caught their fancy. They wanted to have something of the Indian of the present, a live Indian and therefore a bad one, and with this end in view they approached Sandboys one evening while waiting for their parents to come down to supper. "Of course," Sandboys said in reply to their question--"of course there's been Indians around here, but there ain't any now. Civilization's driven 'em all out to Nebrasky an' Honnerlulu and other Western States where they can afford to live. They hung on here as long as they could, but when the hotels began to get built and a new set of prices for things was established in the section, they couldn't afford to stay, so they enervated out West." "They what?" asked Bob, to whom Sandboys's meaning was not quite obvious. "Enervated--skipped--moved out. That's the right word, ain't it?" asked Sandboys. "Emigrated, I guess you mean," suggested Jack. "That's it--emigrated. I allers gets enervated and emigrated mixed up somehow," Sandboys confessed. "Fact is, when words gets above two syllabuls they kerflummux me. I really oughtn't to try to speak 'em, but once in awhile they drop off my tongue without my thinking, and most generally they gets fractured in the fall. But as I was tellin' you, when it began to git expensive living here in the mountains, the Indians found they was too poor to keep in with the best society, and they energated to Nebrasky and other cheaper spots. I've allers felt that the government ought to remember that point, an' instid of sendin' the army out with cannon and shot to kill the Indians and git kilt itself, they should civilize the section by buildin' a half a dozen swell hotels an' charge people ten dollars a day for breathin' the air. That'll kill an Indian quicker'n anything--or if it don't, instid of goin' about scalpin' soldiers and hullaballoin' in war-paint, after one or two seasons he'll begin to make baskits out of hay an' bulrushes an' sell 'em to guests for eight dollars. From what I know about Indians, they'd rather sell a baskit worth ten cents for eight dollars than kill a man, a fact which the government doesn't seem to take notice of. I'd like to be put in charge of the Indian question for just one administration at Washington. You wouldn't hear about any more Piute or Siouks uprisin's in the West, but you would hear of a great increase in the hay-baskit industry and summer-hotel-buildin' trade." "It sounds well," said Jack. "I guess it does," said Sandboys. "It would work too." "It might be dangerous for two or three seasons for the guests, though," said Bobbie. "I don't think I'd want to go to a place for the summer where the Indians were thick and still wild. I don't want to get scalped."