The fire in Sid’s voice told Big John how hot had been that argument between the friends. All this was, no doubt, Sid’s side of it. “If Honanta knew what Scotty was really set on doing not one of us would leave here alive,” went on Sid, bitterly. “I’ve a good mind to tell him! Anything, sooner than be a party to rank treachery like that!” “Scotty’s mother’s pretty hard up, ain’t she, Sid?” asked Big John softly. “Ye-es; a little discomfort, maybe, until he can land a good job. But for that he’s going to turn this whole tribe out, to wander at the mercy of our government--and you know what that is!” “Sho! The mine’d pay enough to buy them a reservation big enough to support them all in the style in which they is accustomed to!” laughed Big John, weakly, “nawthin’ to it, son.” “That’s what Scotty says,” replied Sid. “Some day it will pay enough, maybe--if the promoters don’t skin him out of all his rights in the mine first. But meanwhile, what about these Indians and those white miners who will surely come here? Whisky, debauchery of their women, degradation of their young men--isn’t it always the story when our two races come together? How can you prevent it?” he demanded. Big John shook his head. It was all too perplexing to him, in his present weakened state. “Think of it, John!” went on Sid, raptly. “A tribe of Indians that has found peace at last! And now that they think they have nothing that the white man wants, along comes one of my race--and my own best friend at that--and he wants the silver and copper on their place! What’s the answer?--Move on! It’s always that! I told him I’d borrow money from my father for him, work for him all my life, if he’d only let this go and keep silent about Red Mesa forever.” “An’ what’d Scotty say to that?” “Oh, you know how ’tis!” said Sid wearily. “His head’s sure stuffed with grandiose dreams! I ought to look at it in a big way, he says. Scotty thinks he’s a millionaire already. He talks about buying the tribe a great reservation somewhere, as if Honanta’d agree even to that. What he wants is just peace--and isolation. Nowhere else would his people be free from corruption by every white rapscallion who roams the state. And what mining company would agree to setting aside any sum to pay them for this place? Isn’t it Scotty’s already, by his mere act of driving in a few pegs?” “Sho!” sighed Big John, sinking back again with weakness. The problem seemed too tough for him. After a silence his voice came dreamily from the cot. “Gold! Sometimes, Sid, I think--our laws are--all wrong,” gasped Big John. “No other race but ours--permits one man--to own these big--nat’ral products--that ought to belong to the--hull country--while thousands of us--starve. ’Tain’t right--son! ’Tain’t right!” His voice relapsed in utter weariness. Sid went out of the lodge, regretting that his own impetuosity had brought this miserable problem to Big John at such a time.