Old Applehead grunted and chewed upon a wisp of his sunburned mustache that looked like dried cornsilk after a frost.

The Happy Family exchanged careful glances and rode meekly along in silence.

There was not a man of them but believed that Applehead was nearer right than Luck, but they were not so foolish as to express that belief.
After a while Big Medicine began bellowing tunelessly that old ditty, once popular but now half forgotten: "Nava, Nava, My Navaho-o I have a love for you that will grow-ow!" Which stirred old Applehead to an irritated monologue upon the theme of certain persons whose ignorance is not blissful, but trouble-inviting.
Applehead, it would seem from his speech upon the subject, would be a much surprised ex-sheriff--now a deputy--if they were not all captured and scalped, if not worse, the minute their feet touched the forbidden soil of these demons in human form, the Navajo Indians.
"If they were not too busy weaving blankets for Fred Harvey," Luck qualified with his soft Texan drawl and the smile that went with it.
"You talk as if these boys were tourists." "Yes," added Andy Green maliciously, "here comes a war-party now, boys.
Duck behind a rock, Applehead, they're liable to charge yuh fer them blankets!" The Happy Family laughed uproariously, to the evident bewilderment of the two Indians who, swathed in blankets and with their hair knotted and tied with a green ribbon and a yellow, drove leisurely toward the group in an old wagon that had a bright new seat and was drawn by a weazened span of mangy-looking bay ponies.

In the back of the wagon sat a young squaw and two papooses, and beside them were stacked three or four of the gay, handwoven rugs for which the white people will pay many dollars.
"Buenas dias," said the driver of the wagon, who was an oldish Indian with a true picture-postal face.

And: "Hello," said the other, who was young and wore a bright blue coat, such as young Mexicans affect.
"Hello, folks," cried the Happy Family genially, and lifted their hats to the good-looking young squaw in the wagon-bed, who tittered in bashful appreciation of the attention.
"Mama! They sure are wild and warlike," Weary commented drily as he turned to stare after the wagon.
"Us little deputies had better run home," Pink added with mock alarm.
"By cripes, I know now what went with Applehead's hair!" bawled Big Medicine.