long, raven-black hair, tangled and disheveled,
and she wore a soiled white band of cord above her brow. The color of
her face struck him; it was dark, but not red nor bronzed; it almost
had a tinge of gold. Her profile was clear-cut, bold, almost stern. Long
black eyelashes hid her eyes. She wore a tight-fitting waist garment of
material resembling velveteen. It was ripped along her side, exposing
a skin still more richly gold than that of her face. A string of silver
ornaments and turquoise-and-white beads encircled her neck, and it moved
gently up and down with the heaving of her full bosom. Her skirt was
some gaudy print goods, torn and stained and dusty. She had little feet,
incased in brown moccasins, fitting like gloves and buttoning over the
ankles with silver coins.

"Who was that man? Did he hurt you?" inquired Shefford, turning to gaze
down the valley where a moving black object showed on the bare sand.

"No savvy," replied the Indian girl.

"Where's the trader Presbrey?" asked Shefford.

She pointed straight down into the red valley.

"Toh," she said.

In the center of the basin lay a small pool of water shining brightly in
the sunset glow. Small objects moved around it, so small that Shefford
thought he saw several dogs led by a child. But it was the distance
that deceived him. There was a man down there watering his horses. That
reminded Shefford of the duty owing to his own tired and thirsty beast.
Whereupon he untied his pack, took off the saddle, and was about ready
to start down when the Indian girl grasped the bridle from his hand.

"Me go," she said.

He saw her eyes then, and they made her look different. They were as
black as her hair. He was puzzled to decide whether or not he thought
her handsome.

"Thanks, but I'll go," he replied, and, taking the bridle again, he
started down the slope. At every step he sank into the deep, soft sand.
Down a little way he came upon a pile of tin cans; they were everywhere,
buried, half buried, and lying loose; and these gave evidence of how
the trader lived. Presently Shefford discovered that the Indian girl
was following him with her own pony. Looking upward at her against the
light, he thought her slender, lithe, picturesque. At a distance he
liked her.

He plodded on, at length glad to get out of the drifts of sand to the
hard level floor of the valley. This, too, was sand, but dried and baked
hard, and red in color. At some season of the year th