There was a dinner such as Shefford had not seen for many a day, and
such as Fay had never seen, and that brought to Jane Withersteen's eyes
the dreamy memory of the bountiful feasts which, long years ago, had
been her pride. And there was a story told to the curious trader and
his kind wife--a story with its beginning back in those past years, of
riders of the purple sage, of Fay Larkin as a child and then as a wild
girl in Surprise Valley, of the flight down Nonnezoshe Boco an the
canyon, of a great Mormon and a noble Indian.

Presbrey stared with his deep-set eyes and wagged his tousled head and
stared again; then with the quick perception of the practical desert man
he said:

"I'm sending teamsters in to Flagstaff to-morrow. Wife and I will go
along with you. We've light wagons. Three days, maybe--or four--and
we'll be there.... Shefford, I'm going to see you marry Fay Larkin!"

Fay and Jane and Lassiter showed strangely against this background
of approaching civilization. And Shefford realized more than ever the
loneliness and isolation and wildness of so many years for them.

When the women had retired Shefford and the men talked a while. Then Joe
Lake rose to stretch his big frame.

"Friends, reckon I'm all in," he said. "Good night." In passing he laid
a heavy hand on Shefford's shoulder. "Well, you got out. I've only a
queer notion how. But SOME ONE besides an Indian and a Mormon guided you
out!... Be good to the girl.... Good-by, pard!"

Shefford grasped the big hand and in the emotion of the moment did not
catch the significance of Joe's last words.

Later Shefford stepped outside into the starlight for a few moments'
quiet walk and thought before he went to bed. It was a white night. The
coyotes were yelping. The stars shone steadfast, bright, cold. Nas Ta
Bega stalked out of the shadow of the house and joined Shefford. They
walked in silence. Shefford's heart was too full for utterance and the
Indian seldom spoke at any time. When Shefford was ready to go in Nas Ta
Bega extended his hand.

"Good-by--Bi Nai!" he said, strangely, using English and Navajo in what
Shefford supposed to be merely good night. The starlight shone full upon
the dark, inscrutable face of the Indian. Shefford bade him good night
and then watched him stride away in the silver gloom.

But next morning Shefford understood. Nas Ta Bega and Joe Lake were
gone. It was a shock to Shefford. Yet what could he have said to either?
J