of
their faces by a broad band around the temples. Each had a lance eight or
ten feet long in his hand, and a bow and quiver slung at his waist-belt.
These men were Navajos (Na-va-hos).

Two jolly and impudent braves were these visitors. They ate, smoked,
lounged about, cracked jokes, and asked for liquor as independently as if
the camp were a tavern. Rebuffs only made them grin, and favors only led
to further demands. It was hard to say whether they were most wonderful
for good-nature or impertinence.

Coronado was civil to them. The Navajos abide or migrate on the south, the
north, and the west of the Moqui pueblas. He was in a manner within their
country, and it was still necessary for him to traverse a broad stretch of
it, especially if he should attempt to reach the San Juan. Besides, he
wanted them to warn the Apaches out of the neighborhood and thus avert
from his head the vengeance of Manga Colorada. Accordingly he gave this
pair of roystering troopers a plentiful dinner and a taste of aguardiente.
Toward sunset they departed in high good-humor, promising to turn back the
hoofs of the Apache horses; and when in the morning Coronado saw no
Indians on the plain, he joyously trusted that his visitors had fulfilled
their agreement.

Somewhere or other, within the next day or two, there was a grand council
of the two tribes. We know little of it; we can guess that Manga Colorada
must have made great concessions or splendid promises to the Navajos; but
it is only certain that he obtained leave to traverse their country.
Having secured this privilege, he posted himself fifteen or twenty miles
to the southwest of Tegua, behind a butte which was extensive enough to
conceal his wild cavalry, even in its grazings. He undoubtedly supposed
that, when the train should quit its shelter, it would go to the west or
to the south. In either case he was in a position to fall upon it.

Did the savage know anything about Coronado? Had he attacked his wagons
without being aware that they belonged to the man who had paid him five
hundred dollars and sent him to harry Bernalillo? Or had he attacked in
full knowledge of this fact, because he had been beaten off the southern
trail, and believed that he had been lured thither to be beaten? Had he
learned, either from Apaches or Navajos, whose hand it was that slew his
boy? We can only ask these questions.

One thing alone is positive: there was a debt of blood to be paid. An
Indian wa