Motioning to the mats she spread upon the ground, she said: "Be seated,
my nephews." She accepted the relationship assumed for the occasion. "I
will give you some breakfast." Quickly she set before them a generous
helping of fried bread and cups of coffee. Resuming her own meal, she
continued, "You are wonderfully kind. It is true, my nephews, that I
have grown old trying to secure my share of land. It may not be long
till I shall pass under the sod."

The two men responded with "How, how," which meant, "Go on with your
story. We are all ears." Blue-Star Woman had not yet detected any
particular sharpness about their ears, but by an impulse she looked up
into their faces and scrutinized them. They were busily engaged in
eating. Their eyes were fast upon the food on the mat in front of their
crossed shins. Inwardly she made a passing observation how, like
ravenous wolves, her nephews devoured their food. Coyotes in midwinter
could not have been more starved. Without comment she offered them the
remaining fried cakes, and between them they took it all. She offered
the second helping of coffee, which they accepted without hesitancy.
Filling their cups, she placed her empty coffeepot on the dead ashes.

To them she rehearsed her many hardships. It had become a habit now to
tell her long story of disappointments with all its petty details. It
was only another instance of good intentions gone awry. It was a paradox
upon a land of prophecy that its path to future glory be stained with
the blood of its aborigines. Incongruous as it is, the two nephews, with
their white associates, were glad of a condition so profitable to them.
Their solicitation for Blue-Star Woman was not at all altruistic. They
thrived in their grafting business. They and their occupation were the
by-product of an unwieldly bureaucracy over the nation's wards.