sts
peacefully. Brilliant music sounds in the plaza from the heights; in the
northwest a spark rushes down in serpentine windings nearer and
nearer,--the approaching railway train! From the south a shrill whistle
is heard,--another iron horse sweeping up with people and news from the
outside world. Shade-trees rustle in the evening breeze, and their
leaves dance, alternately plunged in silvery brightness and transparent
night.

To-day the heights of Fort Marcy are deserted, bleak by daylight, pale
and yet frowning when shines the moon. Since the seventeenth century
life has sprung up at its base. At the time when Hayoue and Zashue
lived, life was above, and looked down upon a wilderness beneath. To-day
the hills are wild. Formerly juniper-bushes, cedar, and cactus alone
peopled the banks of the river, growing along the rills and on the
drift-heaps formed by the torrent.

The group of men, with Hayoue and Zashue in their midst, halted on the
south bank. This did not suit Zashue; it struck him as rather unfriendly
or at least as suspicious. Their companions were evidently waiting for
orders, ere they crossed the river.

A man came splashing through the water and called out something, which
the Queres of course did not understand. At once all conversation
ceased, and the Tanos became silent and grave. The new-comer spoke
first; he spoke rapidly and in a low voice, then grasped Hayoue's hand
to breathe on it, and held it fast. Zashue's hands as well had been
seized by two Tanos. His bow and quiver had been removed from him under
some friendly pretext. They were disarmed. Then all moved on, forded the
stream, and took a trail that led directly to the foot of the hill where
stood the pueblo. All sounds of merriment above were hushed, nothing
moved but the men and the night wind rustling through the shrubbery. At
the foot of the high hill other Indians came up; these were armed, and
they followed the group.

All this looked ominous. They were no longer treated as guests; they
were prisoners! Zashue was not so much surprised as Hayoue, for he had
always mistrusted. Hayoue inwardly raved. He reproached himself for not
having listened to his brother's warnings, for having allowed his
rashness, his conceit, his over-confidence, to prevail to such an extent
as to fall into a trap which he felt sure the Tanos had artfully laid
and cunningly sprung upon them. Still all his indignation and rage were
of no avail. Even if he were a