uld come back angrier than he had gone, and without his money.

If Margaret also suspected that the Indian had desired to get rid of her
by leaving her at that desolate little trading-station down in the canon
until such time as her friends should call for her, she resolutely put
the thought out of her mind and set herself to cheer the poor Indian
woman.

She took a bright, soft, rosy silk tie from her own neck and knotted it
about the astonished woman's dusky throat, and then she put a silver
dollar in her hand, and was thrilled with wonder to see what a change
came over the poor, dark face. It reminded her of Mom Wallis when she
got on her new bonnet, and once again she felt the thrill of knowing the
whole world kin.

The squaw cheered up after a little, got sticks and made a fire, and
together they had quite a pleasant meal. Margaret exerted herself to
make the poor woman laugh, and finally succeeded by dangling a
bright-red knight from her chessmen in front of the delighted baby's
eyes till he gurgled out a real baby crow of joy.

It was the middle of the afternoon before the Indian returned, sitting
crazily his struggling beast as he climbed the trail once more.
Margaret, watching, caught her breath and prayed. Was this the
trustworthy man, this drunken, reeling creature, clubbing his horse and
pouring forth a torrent of indistinguishable gutturals? It was evident
that his wife's worst fears were verified. He had found the firewater.

The frightened squaw set to work putting things together as fast as she
could. She well knew what to expect, and when the man reached the top of
the mesa he found his party packed and mounted, waiting fearsomely to
take the trail.

Silently, timorously, they rode behind him, west across the great wide
plain.

In the distance gradually there appeared dim mesas like great fingers
stretching out against the sky; miles away they seemed, and nothing
intervening but a stretch of varying color where sage-brush melted into
sand, and sage-brush and greasewood grew again, with tall cactus
startling here and there like bayonets at rest but bristling with
menace.

The Indian had grown silent and sullen. His eyes were like deep fires of
burning volcanoes. One shrank from looking at them. His massive, cruel
profile stood out like bronze against the evening sky. It was growing
night again, and still they had not come to anywhere or anything, and
still her friends seemed just as far away.