The Island of Golden Zandolie 4. The Blue Blood

“Not quite yours! I'm here!”

“Till I allow you to! There are thousands of us and plus aliens!”

Roger calmly pulled out his gun and placed it on the table in front of him, still sipping his beer. There was an uneasy silence. Dominic's olive eyes threw lightning, even his long braid of black wavy hair trembled at the end from the hot wave of anger that swept the Indian chief from head to toe.

Dominic knew he has to say something in return. He was infuriated by the calm look of Roger, the sneer in his malicious look over his round glasses. The Dutchman was a short old man, and the Indian was completely square, as if hewn out of stone by a man of about forty! Dominic could probably have destroyed Roger on the spot, despite his gun and his dog!

At this very moment, the shepherd dog Dushka growled warningly, as if reading the thoughts of the chief.

“Okay, Roger, here we are! Live, as long as you don’t bother us. But it would be better if you closed your business and drove back to your Europe!”