ugh they looked back
upon the old life from another world. It lay so far behind them that it
seemed but a memory; not a vestige of it clung to them, so filled were
they with new hopes and aspirations.

"Behold!" cried Jose excitedly, pointing toward the west. And looking in
the direction indicated by his outstretched arm, they beheld in the dim
distance numerous columns of smoke rising heavenward in the clear
morning air from the tops of the _mesas_ that dotted the plain.

"'Tis the sign of your coming, Princess!" he continued. "The people have
bowed to the will of the White Cloud--acknowledged the authority of the
White Chief."

Parrakeets began to twitter among the branches of the trees on every
hand during their descent of the western slope. Ravens croaked and
called from the heart of the forest, and the owl flitted by on silent
wing. Black birds with orange heads and throats and splashed with
scarlet on their wings, greeted them at the foot of the mountain among
the reeds which grew along the stream they were following. Deer broke
from the willow copse and bounded away, while grouse rose on whirring
wings from under the horses' hoofs as they emerged upon the plain where
the wild cry of the curlew rang clear and sharp on the morning. They
were free and breathed deep of the spirit of freedom; listened to the
old primeval song of nature's myriad voices; gazed long upon the
pristine loveliness of earth.

All that day and the three following, the columns of smoke continued to
rise heavenward as they pursued their journey. At night, pillars of fire
took the place of the smoke, and all the while, save for an occasional
glimpse in the distance of a solitary horseman who faded specterlike
from view on their approach, they saw not a soul.

The Spirit of the Great Mystery brooded over the land, and they rode as
in a dream. The fragrant cedar and pinon-scented smoke mingled with the
soft, thin haze of the Indian summer which veiled the land in its golden
glow of mystery; the sacred incense, the Red men say, of the gods,
burned on their altars in ancient days; a sign to the people to gather
each year on the hilltops and _mesas_, and in the forests and plains
during the moon of falling leaves, and celebrate in prayer and sacred
dance and song, the advent of the gods.

The wind was hushed and all things seemed to sleep and dream, and they
seemed to draw nearer to the heart of things. The great change that had
come into thei