uel test, but Santan
knew how to be cruel. He said he'd fix me, and I guess he has done it."

"Oh no, Bev. You are good for a century," I declared, affectionately,
holding his head on my knee.

"Little Blue Flower managed, somehow, to fool the Apache dog, and we
escaped and got away to her people," Beverly continued, speaking more
slowly, "then she sent word to Father Josef. But the Hopi folks were
scared about the Apaches coming against them on account of harboring
me, like a Jonah, among 'em; and they were going to make it hard for
Little Blue Flower. I don't know heathen ethics in such things, but a
handful of us had to cut for it. I'm no deserter, though. Don't forget
that. As soon as I could be sure the little Indian woman's life was safe
I was going to get away and come home. I could not leave her to be
sacrificed after she had saved me from Santan's scalping-knife."

Beverly paused and looked at us. His voice seemed weaker when he spoke
again:

"I thought, sometimes, that even if I wasn't to blame for it, I ought to
take Little Blue Flower with me when I got away. Dear little girl! she
gave me one smile and whispered _'Lolomi'_ before she went just now. I
told her long ago I was just everybody's friend. I never meant to spoil
anybody's life, and I can meet her down at the end of the trail and
never fear."

Just then a half-wailing, half-purring cry came from Aunty Boone, who
was standing beside a gnarled cypress-tree.

"I knowed the morning we picked up Little Blue Flower, back at Pawnee
Rock, we was pickin' up trouble for the rest of the trail. I see it
then. You can trust a nigger 'cause they never no 'count, but you don't
know what you gettin' when you trust an Indian. But, Cla'nden, that
Apache Indian, Santan, ain't goin' to trouble you no more. When the
world ain't no fit place for folks they needs helpin' out of it, and I
sees to it they gets it, too. Whoo-ee!" She paused and leaned against
the crooked cypress. Half turning her face toward us, she continued in a
clear, soft voice:

"That man they call Ramero down in Santy Fee--I knowed him when he was
just Fred Ramer back in the rice-fields country. His father, old man
Ramer, tried to kill me once, 'cause he said I knowed too much. I helped
him into kingdom come right then and saved a lot of misery. They blamed
some other folks, I guess, but they never hunted me up at all. Good-by,
Clan'den, and you, too, Felix, and Dick Verra. I've knowed you all t