“We have failed,” he said. “After midnight the drunkards began to
appear, and dance and shout and annoy decent people. Several were
arrested by the police, but they were supported by others, and the
police could do nothing without fear of hurting someone. Then we old
men undertook to shame them. They rose against us all, and drove us
headlong from the camp—police, judges, chiefs. This matter places us in
a shameful position before our people. We want you to write to
Washington for soldiers. They have sent soldiers here before, and they
can do so again. We need them. You tell Washington that.”
But just at that time Washington had its hands full of typewriters,
holding the Germans to strict accountability on paper; and one Villa
was scouting along the Border.
My remaining hope was to trap the smugglers before they reached the
scene of disposal. And following this method, it came about that
One-eyed Dan and his partner, hailing from the Fort Defiance district,
were arrested as they traveled north on my reservation. They had a
trunk loaded with the most diabolical booze. It was in standard
bottles, with all seals intact; but the bottoms had been plugged by an
electric process, and the good stuff replaced with a concoction that
suggested Battle-axe tobacco in a solution of nitric acid. Two drinks
of this would cause a jack rabbit to assault a bobcat. And for this
enthusiasm Navajo Indians would cheerfully pay thirty-five dollars the
quart.
We lost little time in questioning these fellows. The Federal Court was
in session at Prescott, Arizona. One-eyed Dan et al., arrested at noon,
were delivered at the Agency by two o’clock; and by three, autos were
rolling with these gentry and witnesses and the evidence, toward the
railroad. We would catch the night train, and make a swift job of it;
one day peddling in the empire, the next in court and ready for
sentence. Dan and his compadre were made comfortable in a back seat,
handcuffed, and shackled together. A Navajo will not hesitate to leap
from a car if free, and then it is either let him go or wing him. It
doesn’t pay to wing him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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