As the old scout raised both hands in signal of peace the Indian
rode forward. The man was not in the Indian panoply of the old
days, except that he wore moccasins and had two bands of red and
yellow paint on his broad, dark face. A black wide-brimmed hat, a
faded blue shirt and trousers completed his outfit.
"How?" exclaimed the Indian.
"Navajo?" answered Buck.
"Ute!" came the answer. "Where go?"
"Right here," said Buck good-naturedly, pointing to the ground.
"Ute land!" retorted the Indian without a trace of expression in his
face.
"No," retorted Buck sharply, "not Ute land. Ute land there,"
pointing north, "in Colorado."
"Ute land!" exclaimed the red man again, this time scowling.
Buck only shook his head.
Then the Indian suddenly threw himself from his horse, strode to the
wagon and threw up the tail curtain. Safely stored therein he saw
the protected tins of gasoline.
"Whisky?" he exclaimed.
"No," laughed Elmer, "not whisky."
"Whisky," repeated the stranger turning towards Buck; "drink!"
But Buck shook his head.
With out another word the Ute walked haughtily to his horse, threw
himself upon it, and, clasping his heels to its sides, rode quickly
away.
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