f the wall the plateau waved away in red and yellow
ridges, with here and there little valleys green with cedar and pinyon.

Upon one of these ridges, silhouetted against the sky, appeared
the stalking figure of the Indian. He had espied the fugitives. He
disappeared in a niche, and presently came again into view round a
corner of cliff. Here he waited, and soon Shefford and Fay joined him.

"Bi Nai, it is well," he said.

Shefford eagerly asked for the horses, and Nas Ta Bega silently pointed
down the niche, which was evidently an opening into one of the shallow
canyon. Then he led the way, walking swiftly. It was Shefford, and
not Fay, who had difficulty in keeping close to him. This speed caused
Shefford to become more alive to the business, instead of the feeling,
of the flight. The Indian entered a crack between low cliffs--a very
narrow canyon full of rocks and clumps of cedars--and in a half-hour or
less he came to where the mustangs were halted among some cedars. Three
of the mustangs, including Nack-yal, were saddled; one bore a small
pack, and the remaining two had blankets strapped on their backs.

"Fay, can you ride in that long skirt?" asked Shefford. How strange
it seemed that his first words to her were practical when all his
impassioned thought had been only mute! But the instant he spoke he
experienced a relief, a relaxation.

"I'll take it off," replied Fay, just as practically. And in a twinkling
she slipped out of both waist and skirt. She had worn them over the
short white-flannel dress with which Shefford had grown familiar.

As Nack-yal appeared to be the safest mustang for her to ride, Shefford
helped her upon him and then attended to the stirrups. When he had
adjusted them to the proper length he drew the bridle over Nack-yal's
head and, upon handing it to her, found himself suddenly looking into
her face. She had taken off the hood, too. The instant there eyes met he
realized that she was strangely afraid to meet his glance, as he was to
meet hers. That seemed natural. But her face was flushed and there were
unmistakable signs upon it of growing excitement, of mounting happiness.
Save for that fugitive glance she would have been the Fay Larkin of
yesterday. How he had expected her to look he did not know, but it was
not like this. And never had he felt her strange quality of simplicity
so powerfully.

"Have you ever been here--through this little canyon?" he asked.

"Oh yes, lots of tim