the great soldier, Carson, the Navajo has made his last
stand.

"Bi Nai, you have seen the shadow in the hogan of Hosteen Doetin. Glen
Naspa has gone to her grave, and no sisters, no children, will make
paths to the place of her sleep. Nas Ta Bega will never have a wife--a
child. He sees the end. It is the sunset of the Navajo.... Bi Nai, the
Navajo is dying--dying--dying!"

XV. WILD JUSTICE

A crescent moon hung above the lofty peak over the valley and a train
of white stars ran along the bold rim of the western wall. A few young
frogs peeped plaintively. The night was cool, yet had a touch of balmy
spring, and a sweeter fragrance, as if the cedars and pinyons had
freshened in the warm sun of that day.

Shefford and Fay were walking in the aisles of moonlight and the patches
of shade, and Nas Ta Bega, more than ever a shadow of his white brother,
followed them silently.

"Fay, it's growing late. Feel the dew?" said Shefford. "Come, I must
take you back."

"But the time's so short. I have said nothing that I wanted to say," she
replied.

"Say it quickly, then, as we go."

"After all, it's only--will you take me away soon?"

"Yes, very soon. The Indian and I have talked. But we've made no
plan yet. There are only three ways to get out of this country. By
Stonebridge, by Kayenta and Durango, and by Red Lake. We must choose
one. All are dangerous. We must lose time finding Surprise Valley. I
hoped the Indian could find it. Then we'd bring Lassiter and Jane here
and hide them near till dark, then take you and go. That would give us a
night's start. But you must help us to Surprise Valley."

"I can go right to it, blindfolded, or in the dark.... Oh, John, hurry!
I dread the wait. He might come again."

"Joe says--they won't come very soon."

"Is it far--where we're going--out of the country?"

"Ten days' hard riding."

"Oh! That night ride to and from Stonebridge nearly killed me. But I
could walk very far, and climb for ever."

"Fay, we'll get out of the country if I have to carry you."

When they arrived at the cabin Fay turned on the porch step and, with
her face nearer a level with his, white and sweet in the moonlight, with
her eyes shining and unfathomable, she was more than beautiful.

"You've never been inside my house," she said. "Come in. I've something
for you."

"But it's late," he remonstrated. "I suppose you've got me a cake or
pie--something to eat. You women all think Joe and