The Last of the Plainsmen 



&quot; How.&quot; The Navajo spoke with dignity, and 

 extended a friendly hand. 



&quot; Jones big white chief rope buffalo tie up 

 tight,&quot; continued Emmett, making motions with his 

 arm, as if he were whirling a lasso. 



&quot; No big heap small buffalo,&quot; said the Indian, 

 holding his hand level with his knee, and smiling 

 broadly. 



Jones, erect, rugged, brawny, stood in the full 

 light of the campfire. He had a dark, bronzed, 

 inscrutable face; a stern mouth and square jaw, keen 

 eyes, half-closed from years of searching the wide 

 plains, and deep furrows wrinkling his cheeks. A 

 strange stillness enfolded his features the tran- 

 quility earned from a long life of adventure. 



He held up both muscular hands to the Navajo, 

 and spread out his fingers. 



&quot; Rope buffalo heap big buffalo heap many 



one sun.&quot; 



The Indian straightened up, but kept his friendly 

 smile. 



&quot; Me big chief,&quot; went on Jones, &quot; me go far 

 north Land of Little Sticks Naza ! Naza ! rope 

 musk-ox; rope White Manitou of Great Slaves 

 Naza! Naza!&quot; 



&quot; Naza ! &quot; replied the Navaju, pointing to the 

 North Star; &quot; no no.&quot; 



4 



