Wilson
drove his cattle down into the valley and squatted, the chief, Drifting
Crane, welcomed him, as a host might, to an abundant feast whose
hospitality was presumed upon, but who felt the need of sustaining his
reputation as a host, and submitted graciously.

The Indians during the first summer got to know Wilson, and liked him
for his silence, his courage, his generosity; but the older men pondered
upon the matter a great deal and watched with grave faces to see him
ploughing up the sod for his garden. There was something strange in this
solitary man thus deserting his kindred, coming here to live alone with
his cattle; they could not understand it. What they said in those
pathetic, dimly lighted lodges will never be known; but when winter
came, and the new-comer did not drive his cattle back over the hills as
they thought he would, then the old chieftains took long counsel upon
it. Night after night they smoked upon it, and at last Drifting Crane
said to two of his young men: "Go ask this cattleman why he remains in
the cold and snow with his cattle. Ask him why he does not drive his
cattle home."

This was in March, and one evening a couple of days later, as Wilson was
about re-entering his shanty at the close of his day's work, he was
confronted by two stalwart Indians, who greeted him pleasantly.

"How d'e do? How d'e do?" he said in reply. "Come in. Come in and take a
snack."

The Indians entered and sat silently while he put some food on the
table. They hardly spoke till after they had eaten. The Indian is always
hungry, for the reason that his food supply is insufficient and his
clothing poor. When they sat on the cracker-boxes and soap-boxes which
served as seats, they spoke. They told him of the chieftain's message.
They said they had come to assist him in driving his cattle back across
the hills; that he must go.

To all this talk in the Indian's epigrammatic way, and in the dialect
which has never been written, the rancher replied almost as briefly:
"You go back and tell Drifting Crane that I like this place; that I'm
here to stay; that I don't want any help to drive my cattle. I'm on the
lands of the Great Father at Washington, and Drifting Crane ain't got
any say about it. Now that sizes the whole thing up. I ain't got
anything against you nor against him, but I'm a settler; that's my
constitution; and now I'm settled I'm going to stay."

While the Indians discussed his words between themselves