kietsetti sitting by Mr. Clifford bent over his knees gravely
watching the singer's face and listening intently for every word, and
when she was through, he asked a question of Mr. Masters.

"The old man wants to know," said Masters after one or two more
questions had been asked, "how it happened that the sheep got lost and
if it was its own fault or the fault of someone who should have been
looking after it. That isn't a bad question to come from the old fellow.
His theology isn't half so much at fault as that of some theological
seminary professors I know, who teach that sin is nothing but a disease
and that nobody in particular is to blame for it. If he had to live out
here awhile instead of in his little upholstered study at the seminary,
he would change his definition."

The evening was spent about the fire with songs and conversation,
largely between Paul and Mr. Masters concerning the Navajo
characteristics. The last thing Bauer could remember as he lay under his
rug looking up at the stars, was the sight of old Peshlekietsetti
throwing a handful of dry roots on the fire as he sat bowed over his
knees, the fire flame gleaming red on his grave and dignified face.

He wakened early, as he had of late been doing, and sat up, noting the
sleeping figures in a circle about the ashes of the fire, and as his
look travelled on past them he noted out by the edge of the Black Gorge
through which they were to travel that day, a solitary figure sitting on
one of the curious rocks that framed a sort of gateway to the diminutive
canyon. Even at that distance he could distinguish the form of Elijah
Clifford, although he had already noticed that Clifford's rug and rubber
blanket, which had been spread out by his own, had been folded up and
tied ready for the day's trip.

Before the rest of the sleepers had stirred, Clifford came back to the
spot and began with the noiseless rapidity of an Indian to build the
fire in the sand preparatory to the breakfast, talking in a soft voice
to Bauer, as if Bauer had asked him a question, although Bauer had not
said a word except "Good-morning," when Clifford cheerfully greeted him.

"You see, I used to work on a daily paper in Kansas City before I was
converted and it seems to me now that I spend most of my time trying to
catch up with the day after to-morrow. I never had any leisure, never
went to church, never opened a Bible and never talked with myself. Since
I came out here I've had t