it o' green between the river and the trees."
"Yes, I see," said Joe quickly--"three Indians with spears."
"Right, lad!"
"I don't see them," said Brazier. "Yes," he added quickly, "I can see
them now."
"Only one ain't got a spear. That's a blowpipe," said Shaddy quietly.
"What! that length?" cried Rob. "Ay, my lad, that length. The longer
they are the smaller the darts, and the farther and stronger they sends
'em."
"But we don't know that they are enemies," said Brazier.
"Oh yes, you do, sir. That's the Injuns' country, and there's no doubt
about it. White man's their enemy, they say, so they must be ours."
"But why?" said Rob. "We shouldn't interfere with the Indians."
"We've got a bad character with 'em, my lad. 'Tain't our fault. They
tell me it's all along o' the Spaniards as come in this country first,
and made slaves of 'em, and learnt 'em to make 'em good, and set 'em to
work in the mines to get gold and silver for 'em till they dropped and
died. Only savages they were, and so I s'pose the Spaniards thought
they weren't o' no consequence. But somehow I s'pose, red as they are,
they think and feel like white people, and didn't like to be robbed and
beaten, and worn to death, and their children took away from 'em.
Spaniards never seemed to think as they'd mind that. Might ha' known,
too, for a cat goes miaowing about a house if she loses her kittens, and
a dog kicks up a big howl about its pups; while my 'sperience about wild
beasts is that if you want to meddle with their young ones, you'd better
shoot the old ones first."
"Yes, I'm afraid that the old Spaniards thought of nothing out here but
getting gold."
"That's so, sir; and the old Indians telled their children about how
they'd been used, and their children told the next lot, and so it's gone
on till it's grown into a sort of religion that the Spaniard is a sort
o' savage wild beast, who ought to be killed; and that ain't the worst
on it."
"Then what is?" said Rob, for Shaddy looked round at him and stopped
short, evidently to be asked that question.
"Why, the worst of it is, sir, that they poor hungered, savage sort o'
chaps don't know the difference between us and them Dons. English means
an Englishman all the wide world over, says you; but you're wrong. He
ain't out here. Englishman, or Italian, or Frenchman's a Spaniard; and
they'll shoot us as soon as look at us."
"Why, you're making for the other shore, Nayl
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