mounted, and rode off. Shefford saw him
halt a moment under the cedars to speak with the three strange Indians,
and then he galloped away. It came to Shefford then that he had been
unconscious of the last strained moment of that encounter. He seemed all
cold, tight, locked, and was amazed to find his hand on his gun. Verily
the wild environment had liberated strange instincts and impulses, which
he had answered. That he had no regrets proved how he had changed.

Shefford heard the old woman scolding. Peering into the hogan, he saw
Glen Naspa flounce sullenly down, for all the world like any other
thwarted girl. Hosteen Doetin came out and pointed down the slope at the
departing missionary.

"Heap talk Jesus--all talk--all Jesus!" he exclaimed, contemptuously.
Then he gave Shefford a hard rap on the chest. "Small talk--heap man!"

The matter appeared to be adjusted for the present. But Shefford felt
that he had made a bitter enemy, and perhaps a powerful one.

He prepared and ate his supper alone that evening, for Joe Lake and Nas
Ta Bega did not put in an appearance. He observed that the three strange
Indians, whom he took for Piutes, kept to themselves, and, so far as he
knew, had no intercourse with any one at the camp. This would not have
seemed unusual, considering the taciturn habit of Indians, had he not
remembered seeing Willetts speak to the trio. What had he to do with
them? Shefford was considering the situation with vague doubts when, to
his relief, the three strangers rode off into the twilight. Then he went
to bed.

He was awakened by violence. It was the gray hour before dawn. Dark
forms knelt over him. A cloth pressed down hard over his mouth: Strong
hands bound it while other strong hands held him. He could not cry out.
He could not struggle. A heavy weight, evidently a man, held down his
feet. Then he was rolled over, securely bound, and carried, to be thrown
like a sack over the back of a horse.

All this happened so swiftly as to be bewildering. He was too astounded
to be frightened. As he hung head downward he saw the legs of a horse
and a dim trail. A stirrup swung to and fro, hitting him in the face.
He began to feel exceedingly uncomfortable, with a rush of blood to his
head, and cramps in his arms and legs. This kept on and grew worse for
what seemed a long time. Then the horse was stopped and a rude hand
tumbled him to the ground. Again he was rolled over on his face. Strong
fingers plucke