iron-gray with white mane
and tail sweeping to the ground; and a fiery black, wilder than any
other beast he had ever seen; and a pinto as wonderfully painted as the
little lambs; and, most striking of all, a pure, cream-colored mustang
with grace and fine lines and beautiful mane and tail, and, strange
to see, eyes as blue as azure. This albino mustang came right up to
Shefford, an action in singular contrast with that of the others, and
showed a tame and friendly spirit toward him and Nack-yal. Indeed,
Shefford had reason to feel ashamed of Nack-yal's temper or jealousy.

The first Indians to put in an appearance were a flock of children, half
naked, with tangled manes of raven-black hair and skin like gold bronze.
They appeared bold and shy by turns. Then a little, sinewy man, old
and beaten and gray, came out of the principal hogan. He wore a blanket
round his bent shoulders. His name was Hosteen Doetin, and it meant
gentle man. His fine, old, wrinkled face lighted with a smile of kindly
interest. His squaw followed him, and she was as venerable as he.
Shefford caught a glimpse of the shy, dark Glen Naspa, Nas Ta Bega's
sister, but she did not come out. Other Indians appeared, coming from
adjacent hogans.

Nas Ta Bega turned the mustangs loose among those Shefford had noticed,
and presently there rose a snorting, whistling, kicking, plunging melee.
A cloud of dust hid them, and then a thudding of swift hoofs told of a
run through the cedars. Joe Lake began picking over stacks of goat-skins
and bags of wool that were piled against the hogan.

"Reckon we'll have one grand job packing out this load," he growled.
"It's not so heavy, but awkward to pack."

It developed, presently, from talk with the old Navajo, that this pile
was only a half of the load to be packed to Kayenta, and the other half
was round the corner of the mountain in the camp of Piutes. Hosteen
Doetin said he would send to the camp and have the Piutes bring their
share over. The suggestion suited Joe, who wanted to save his burros as
much as possible. Accordingly, a messenger was despatched to the Piute
camp. And Shefford, with time on his hands and poignant memory to
combat, decided to recall his keen interest in the Navajo, and learn,
if possible, what the Indian's life was like. What would a day of his
natural life be?

In the gray of dawn, when the hush of the desert night still lay deep
over the land, the Navajo stirred in his blanket and be