> Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger
> lounge in Bozeman, Montana, awaiting their flights
>
> One is an American Indian passing through from Lame Deer
> Another is a Cowboy on his way to Billings for a livestock show
> and the third passenger is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly
> arrived at Montana State University from the Middle East.
>
> Their discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. Soon, the two
> Westerners learn that the Arab is a devout, radical Muslim and the
> conversation falls into an uneasy lull.
>
> The cowboy leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on a magazine
> table and tips his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face. The
> wind outside is blowing tumbleweeds around, and the old windsock is
> flapping; but still no plane comes.
>
> Finally, the American Indian clears his throat and softly he speaks,
> At one time here, my people were many, but sadly, now we are few."
>
>
>
> The Muslim student raises an eyebrow and leans forward, "Once my
> people were few," he sneers, "and now we are many. Why do you suppose
> that is?"
>
>
> The Montana cowboy shifts his toothpick to one side of his mouth and
> from the darkness beneath his Stetson says in a drawl,
>
> "That's 'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet, but I do
> believe it's a-comin'."
> lounge in Bozeman, Montana, awaiting their flights
>
> One is an American Indian passing through from Lame Deer
> Another is a Cowboy on his way to Billings for a livestock show
> and the third passenger is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly
> arrived at Montana State University from the Middle East.
>
> Their discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. Soon, the two
> Westerners learn that the Arab is a devout, radical Muslim and the
> conversation falls into an uneasy lull.
>
> The cowboy leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on a magazine
> table and tips his big sweat-stained hat forward over his face. The
> wind outside is blowing tumbleweeds around, and the old windsock is
> flapping; but still no plane comes.
>
> Finally, the American Indian clears his throat and softly he speaks,
> At one time here, my people were many, but sadly, now we are few."
>
>
>
> The Muslim student raises an eyebrow and leans forward, "Once my
> people were few," he sneers, "and now we are many. Why do you suppose
> that is?"
>
>
> The Montana cowboy shifts his toothpick to one side of his mouth and
> from the darkness beneath his Stetson says in a drawl,
>
> "That's 'cause we ain't played Cowboys and Muslims yet, but I do
> believe it's a-comin'."
