a shame to come all this distance and eat all this dirt
and miss the real thing after all."

"I don't want to miss it, of course," Helen faltered, looking at the
group of young men, Walter, Felix, Van Shaw and his two friends. "But
I'm giving a lot of trouble and I'm afraid I'm a nuisance."

"Then we will abate it by carrying you up there," said Van Shaw smiling,
and Helen smiled back at him, to Felix Bauer's rage. The whole thing was
getting to be torture to him. And it all intensified his determination
to have a plain talk with Mrs. Douglas. The opportunity for it was not
easy. Mrs. Douglas was close by Helen nearly every moment. The camp
duties were many and the little company was of necessity grouped close
together during the march. But Bauer with his regular stock of dogged
patience bided his time, sure it would come.

Camp was pitched that night at the foot of the Oraibi trail. Almost as
soon as the wagons were located Van Shaw came over to Mrs. Douglas
carrying a cot.

"We've got an extra cot, Mrs. Douglas, and it won't take any time to fix
that litter. We can use some of our tent poles. I'll be glad to fix the
thing up in the morning."

Mrs. Douglas thanked him quietly, and Helen expressed her gratitude.

"Oh, I wouldn't miss seeing the sight to-morrow for anything. Isn't it
wonderful. That rock? How weird it all is. Why, you can hardly tell
where the rock begins and the houses leave off. Just to think of seven
or eight hundred people living up there all these centuries keeping up
these queer customs. And oh, look! What is that?"

A line of Indian women filed past up the trail about twenty-five feet
apart, each one carrying on her back a large clay water jar. They did
not walk, they trotted along in a tireless steady stride that spoke of
centuries of training before them. The weight of the jars was not far
from thirty pounds.

Masters was passing Helen's wagon.

"That's woman's rights," he said gravely. "The water supply at Oraibi
for centuries has been jars on the backs of women. You must get used to
thinking of seven hundred people dependent on the daily trips of these
women for all the water used on top of that rock for washing, cooking,
drinking. The women of Oraibi also have the right of building the houses
the men live in. They are the masons, while the men are the dressmakers.
And there are people who would like to keep these women perpetually at
these tasks, they say it so 'picturesque.'"

"I