is despair leave him.
In the Indian lay his salvation. He knew it. Joe Lake caught the subtle
spirit of the moment and looked up eagerly.

Nas Ta Bega stretched an arm toward the east, and spoke in Navajo.
But Shefford, owing to the hurry and excitement of his mind, could not
translate. Joe Lake listened, gave a violent start, leaped up with all
his big frame quivering, and then fired question after question at the
Indian. When the Navajo had replied to all, Joe drew himself up as if
facing an irrevocable decision which would wring his very soul. What did
he cast off in that moment? What did he grapple with? Shefford had no
means to tell, except by the instinct which baffled him. But whether the
Mormon's trial was one of spiritual rending or the natural physical
fear of a perilous, virtually impossible venture, the fact was he was
magnificent in his acceptance of it. He turned to Shefford, white, cold,
yet glowing.

"Nas Ta Bega believes he can take you down a canyon to the big
river--the Colorado. He knows the head of this canyon. Nonnezoshe Boco
it's called--canyon of the rainbow bridge. He has never been down it.
Only two or three living Indians have ever seen the great stone bridge.
But all have heard of it. They worship it as a god. There's water runs
down this canyon and water runs to the river. Nas Ta Bega thinks he can
take you down to the river."

"Go on," cried Shefford breathlessly, as Joe paused.

"The Indian plans this way. God, it's great!... If only I can do my
end!... He plans to take mustangs to-day and wait with them for you
to-night or to-morrow till you come with the girl. You'll go get
Lassiter and the woman out of Surprise Valley. Then you'll strike east
for Nonnezoshe Boco. If possible, you must take a pack of grub. You may
be days going down--and waiting for me at the mouth of the canyon, at
the river."

"Joe! Where will you be?"

"I'll ride like hell for Kayenta, get another horse there, and ride
like hell for the San Juan River. There's a big flatboat at the Durango
crossing. I'll go down the San Juan in that--into the big river. I'll
drift down by day, tie up by night, and watch for you at the mouth of
every canyon till I come to Nonnezoshe Boco."

Shefford could not believe the evidence of his ears. He knew the
treacherous San Juan River. He had heard of the great, sweeping,
terrible red Colorado and its roaring rapids.

"Oh, it seems impossible!" he gasped. "You'll just lose your l