is immense flat
must be covered with water. How wide it was, and empty! Shefford
experienced again a feeling that had been novel to him--and it was that
he was loose, free, unanchored, ready to veer with the wind. From the
foot of the slope the water hole had appeared to be a few hundred rods
out in the valley. But the small size of the figures made Shefford
doubt; and he had to travel many times a few hundred rods before those
figures began to grow. Then Shefford made out that they were approaching
him.

Thereafter they rapidly increased to normal proportions of man and
beast. When Shefford met them he saw a powerful, heavily built young man
leading two ponies.

"You're Mr. Presbrey, the trader?" inquired Shefford.

"Yes, I'm Presbrey, without the Mister," he replied.

"My name's Shefford. I'm knocking about on the desert. Rode from beyond
Tuba to-day."

"Glad to see you," said Presbrey. He offered his hand. He was a stalwart
man, clad in gray shirt, overalls, and boots. A shock of tumbled light
hair covered his massive head; he was tanned, but not darkly, and there
was red in his cheeks; under his shaggy eyebrows were deep, keen eyes;
his lips were hard and set, as if occasion for smiles or words was rare;
and his big, strong jaw seemed locked.

"Wish more travelers came knocking around Red Lake," he added. "Reckon
here's the jumping-off place."

"It's pretty--lonesome," said Shefford, hesitating as if at a loss for
words.

Then the Indian girl came up. Presbrey addressed her in her own
language, which Shefford did not understand. She seemed shy and would
not answer; she stood with downcast face and eyes. Presbrey spoke again,
at which she pointed down the valley, and then moved on with her pony
toward the water-hole.

Presbrey's keen eyes fixed on the receding black dot far down that oval
expanse.

"That fellow left--rather abruptly," said Shefford, constrainedly. "Who
was he?"

"His name's Willetts. He's a missionary. He rode in to-day with this
Navajo girl. He was taking her to Blue Canyon, where he lives and
teaches the Indians. I've met him only a few times. You see, not many
white men ride in here. He's the first white man I've seen in six
months, and you're the second. Both the same day!... Red Lake's getting
popular! It's queer, though, his leaving. He expected to stay all night.
There's no other place to stay. Blue Canyon is fifty miles away."

"I'm sorry to say--no, I'm not sorry, either--bu