They go--"
The old Indian touched him on the shoulder, and Juan turned and repeated the
statement in Spanish. The old man's eyes went to luck understandingly, while
he asked Juan a question in the Navajo tongue, and afterwards gave a command.
He turned his eyes upon the Native Son and spoke in Spanish. "The men you want
did not come this way," he said gravely. "Juan will tell."
"Yes, I know dat Ramon Chavez. I seen him ,dat day. I'm start for home, an' I
seen Ramon Chavez an' dat Luis Rojas an' one white feller I'm don't know dat
feller. They don't got red car. They got big, black car. They come outa
corral--scare my horse. They go 'cross railroad. I go 'cross rio. One red car
pass me. I go along, bimeby I pass red car in sand. Ramon Chavez, he don't go
in dat car. I don't know them feller. Ramon Chavez he go 'cross railroad in
big black car."
"Then who was it we've been trailing out this way?" Luck asked the question in
Spanish and glanced from one brown face to the other.
The older Indian shifted his moccasined feet in the sand and looked away.
"Indians," he said in Mexican. "You follow, Indians think you maybe take them
away--put 'm in jail. All friends of them Indians pretty mad.
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