But of Indian graves who can say anything worth hearing? The
undiscovered sixty-first element is known to be a rare-earth metal, but
wisdom in dealing with backward races is rarer than the rarest earth.
Ojeeg belonged to the people that normally inhabit hills and live on
venison or milk. Many a time this wild and living nitrogen has swept
down from the hills and conquered the mild farmer who raises wheat and
sesame—in short, starch. Thus fell starchy Babylon.
But starch in turn can conquer. It can backfire up the hills in the form
of alcohol, first enchanting the primitive soul and then destroying it.
When Ojeeg’s ancestors first received their kegs of liquor, they
straightway dreamed that earth is pure kindliness and then slew their
own families in the orgy of this romance.
Ojeeg was neither civilized nor savage. He was neither fish, flesh,
fowl, nor good red Indian. But he knew his enemy, which is about the
last thing that any man attains to know.