again, looked at Bauer pensively, shook her head as if in
answer to a question, and then with a feeling of determination turned
her attention to the remarkable land through which the party was
travelling.

The sky was cloudless. The heat was dry and penetrating, and as the
forenoon wore away everyone grew thirsty. The cloth covered canteens
were called for often. At noon the wagons drew together and camped for
dinner. Two of the wagons were driven up side by side about ten feet
apart and the horses unhitched and hobbled. A spare canvas was drawn
over the tops of the two wagons to make shade for the dinner party.
Clifford, who acted as cook on camping out occasions, dug a hole in the
sand, filled it with dowegie roots and started his fire and in what
seemed an incredibly short time to the visitors from Milton a hearty
meal was ready. The Indians and their helpers squatted around on rugs
within the circle, Mr. Masters asked grace in a delightful tone of
genuine thanksgiving and added a few words in Navajo in which
Peshlekietsetti and the young Indians joined.

"This what I call the real thing," said Paul, as he helped himself to
his fourth sandwich and passed his cup for the third time for coffee.

"Yes, these are real sandwiches all right," said Clifford as he turned
over some pancakes which were cooking on a flat stone. "Anyone else want
a hot one made by the slab artist?"

Walter expressed a desire for one and politely handed it over to Miss
Gray. Clifford looked at him a moment and then at Miss Gray, who was
smiling her thanks.

"How's the batter?" he said to Walter.

"Good," said Walter who seemed in unusual spirits. "It's equal to a home
run with the bases all full."

"Do you think it needs to be any thicker?"

"No. It's thick enough," said Walter with his eyes on Miss Gray.

"Yes, what did I tell you," muttered Clifford to Bauer when an hour
later he and the German student were alone and out of ear shot from the
rest of the campers. Bauer had offered to help Clifford wash the dishes
at a water hole some hundred yards from the camp. "What did I tell you?
It's just as I said. Miss Gray has 'em all going. Cowboys, Indian
traders, missionaries, visitors, everybody. Now it's your friend
Douglas. He's a goner so soon. You watch when the wagons load up if he
don't manage to sit with Miss Gray. He's lost and there's no use sending
out an expedition to find him. He doesn't want to be found. And the
mystery of it