whooping birds."

Bob was of course puzzled by some of the things the Indian said.

"What does he mean, Frank?" he asked.

"I take it the warrior has been in some sort of fuss at his village,"
the other replied. "Perhaps he even struck his chief in anger, and that
made an offense punishable with death. These Moqui Indians are a queer
lot, anyhow, I've heard. Then he must have skipped out, and by accident
seeing our friend, Sheriff Stanwix, known to him as the 'man who
beckons,' he just imagined they were looking for him."

"And that locoed him so much that he just couldn't stand it any longer,"
Bob said. "Discovering our camp he got the notion in his head that a
horse might take him out of the danger zone. So he was in the act of
jumping on one of our mounts when your clever little beast took a hand,
or rather a hoof, in the matter. But do you know what he means by
whooping birds?"

"Well, I can give a guess," replied Frank. "That must mean the little
owl that lives with the prairie dogs in their holes, along with the
poison snake, otherwise the rattler."

"Looks like we've just got our hands full to-night, Frank!"

"You're right, Bob. First we feed two hungry sheriffs, and pick up quite
a little news about the bad men they're looking for. Next, along comes
this Moqui, Havasupai he says his name is, and he gets in a bad fix by
trying to run off our horses; and feeling sorry for the old chap we lug
him to our tent, and look him over, ready to even bind up his wounds, if
he has any."

"Getting to be a habit, isn't it, Frank?"

"Seems like it," returned the taller boy, as he once more turned toward
the seated Indian. "Here, can you tell us where my horse kicked you?"

"It matters not much. Havasupai get what he needs because he try to
steal horse from good white boys," came the humble reply.

"One thing sure," remarked Frank aside to his chum, "he's been in touch
with the whites a heap, or he wouldn't know how to talk as he does. But
then, that isn't so queer. You know that these Moquis pick up a lot of
good coin from the travelers who come and go at the Grand Canyon."

"Why, yes," Bob went on to say, "I've always heard that one of the
sights of this wonderland was the snake dance of the Moquis. I read an
account of it in a magazine once. It said that hundreds of people
gathered from many quarters to be on hand and see it, because it occurs
only once a year. Some of them were big guns in science, too."

"Th