irds made melody everywhere. Shefford seemed full of
a strange pleasure, and the hours flew by. Nack-yal still wanted to be
everlastingly turning off the trail, and, moreover, now he wanted to go
faster. He was eager, restless, dissatisfied.

At noon the pack-train descended into a deep draw, well covered with
cedar and sage. There was plenty of grass and shade, but no water.
Shefford was surprised to see that every pack was removed; however, the
roll of blankets was left on Dynamite.

The men made a fire and began to cook a noonday meal. Shefford, tired
and warm, sat in a shady spot and watched. He had become all eyes. He
had almost forgotten Fay Larkin; he had forgotten his trouble; and
the present seemed sweet and full. Presently his ears were filled by a
pattering roar and, looking up the draw, he saw two streams of sheep
and goats coming down. Soon an Indian shepherd appeared, riding a fine
mustang. A cream-colored colt bounded along behind, and presently a
shaggy dog came in sight. The Indian dismounted at the camp, and his
flock spread by in two white and black streams. The dog went with them.
Withers and Joe shook hands with the Indian, whom Joe called "Navvy,"
and Shefford lost no time in doing likewise. Then Nas Ta Bega came in,
and he and the Navajo talked. When the meal was ready all of them sat
down round the canvas. The shepherd did not tie his horse.

Presently Shefford noticed that Nack-yal had returned to camp and was
acting strangely. Evidently he was attracted by the Indian's mustang or
the cream-colored colt. At any rate, Nack-yal hung around, tossed his
head, whinnied in a low, nervous manner, and looked strangely eager and
wild. Shefford was at first amused, then curious. Nack-yal approached
too close to the mother of the colt, and she gave him a sounding kick in
the ribs. Nack-yal uttered a plaintive snort and backed away, to stand,
crestfallen, with all his eagerness and fire vanished.

Nas Ta Bega pointed to the mustang and said something in his own tongue.
Then Withers addressed the visiting Indian, and they exchanged some
words, whereupon the trader turned to Shefford:

"I bought Nack-yal from this Indian three years ago. This mare is
Nack-yal's mother. He was born over here to the south. That's why he
always swung left off the trail. He wanted to go home. Just now he
recognized his mother and she whaled away and gave him a whack for his
pains. She's got a colt now and probably didn't reco