Men of his own
color have long injured him, yet have lived. The Mormon loved his
fellows and forgave. Five sons he laid in their graves, yet his heart
was not hardened. His first-born went the trail of the fire-water and is
an outcast from his people. Many enemies has he and one is a chief. He
has killed the white man's friends, stolen his cattle, and his water.
To-day the white man laid another son in his grave. What thinks the
chief? Would he not crush the scorpion that stung him?"
The old Navajo answered in speech which, when translated, was as
stately as the Mormon's.
"Eschtah respects his friend, but he has not thought him wise. The White
Prophet sees visions of things to come, but his blood is cold. He asks
too much of the white man's God. He is a chief; he has an eye like the
lightning, an arm strong as the pine, yet he has not struck. Eschtah
grieves. He does not wish to shed blood for pleasure. But Eschtah's
friend has let too many selfish men cross his range and drink at his
springs. Only a few can live on the desert. Let him who has found the
springs and the trails keep them for his own.
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