panion.

"The half-breed is here," said Nas Ta Bega.

"Shadd? Yes, we saw him. There! He's still with his gang. Nas Ta Bega,
what are they up to?"

"They will steal what they can."

"Withers says Shadd is friendly with the Mormons."

"Yes, and with the missionary, too."

"With Willetts?"

"I saw them talk together--strong talk."

"Strange. But maybe it's not so strange. Shadd is known well in
Monticello and Bluff. He spends money there. They are afraid of him, but
he's welcome just the same. Perhaps everybody knows him. It'd be like
him to ride into Kayenta. But, Nas Ta Bega, I've got to look out for
him, because Withers says he's after me."

"Bi Nai wears a scar that is proof," said the Indian.

"Then it must be he found out long ago I had a little money."

"It might be. But, Bi Nai, the half-breed has a strange step on your
trail."

"What do you mean?" demanded Shefford.

"Nas Ta Bega cannot tell what he does not know," replied the Navajo.
"Let that be. We shall know some day. Bi Nai, there is sorrow to tell
that is not the Indian's.... Sorrow for my brother!"

Shefford lifted his eyes to the Indian's, and if he did not see sadness
there he was much deceived.

"Bi Nai, long ago you told a story to the trader. Nas Ta Bega sat before
the fire that night. You did not know he could understand your language.
He listened. And he learned what brought you to the country of the
Indian. That night he made you his brother.... All his lonely rides into
the canyon have been to find the little golden-haired child, the lost
girl--Fay Larkin.... Bi Nai, I have found the girl you wanted for your
sweetheart."

Shefford was bereft of speech. He could not see steadily, and the last
solemn words of the Indian seemed far away.

"Bi Nai, I have found Fay Larkin," repeated Nas Ta Bega.

"Fay Larkin!" gasped Shefford, shaking his head. "But--she's dead."

"It would be less sorrow for Bi Nai if she were dead."

Shefford clutched at the Indian. There was something terrible to be
revealed. Like an aspen-leaf in the wind he shook all over. He divined
the revelation--divined the coming blow--but that was as far as his mind
got.

"She's in there," said the Indian, pointing toward hall.

"Fay Larkin?" whispered Shefford.

"Yes, Bi Nai."

"My God! HOW do you know? Oh, I could have seen. I've been blind. ...
Tell me, Indian. Which one?"

"Fay Larkin is the Sago Lily."

. . . . . . . . . .

Shefford strode away into