ther had followed
his trail to return his horse, perhaps to guide him safely, but,
unknowingly perhaps, they had done infinitely more than that for him. As
Shefford's eye wandered over the dark, still figures of the sleepers he
had a strange, dreamy premonition, or perhaps only a fancy, that there
was to be more come of this fortunate meeting.

For the rest, it was good to be there in the speaking silence, to feel
the heat on his outstretched palms and the cold wind on his cheek, to
see the black wall lifting its bold outline and the crags reaching for
the white stars.

III. KAYENTA

The stamping of horses awoke Shefford. He A saw a towering crag, rosy
in the morning light, like a huge red spear splitting the clear blue
of sky. He got up, feeling cramped and sore, yet with unfamiliar
exhilaration. The whipping air made him stretch his hands to the fire.
An odor of coffee and broiled meat mingled with the fragrance of wood
smoke. Glen Naspa was on her knees broiling a rabbit on a stick over the
red coals. Nas Ta Bega was saddling the ponies. The canyon appeared
to be full of purple shadows under one side of dark cliffs and golden
streaks of mist on the other where the sun struck high up on the walls.

"Good morning," said Shefford.

Glen Naspa shyly replied in Navajo.

"How," was Nas Ta Bega's greeting.

In daylight the Indian lost some of the dark somberness of face that had
impressed Shefford. He had a noble head, in poise like that of an eagle,
a bold, clean-cut profile, and stern, close-shut lips. His eyes were the
most striking and attractive feature about him; they were coal-black
and piercing; the intent look out of them seemed to come from a keen and
inquisitive mind.

Shefford ate breakfast with the Indians, and then helped with the few
preparations for departure. Before they mounted, Nas Ta Bega pointed
to horse tracks in the dust. They were those that had been made by
Shefford's threatening visitor of the night before. Shefford explained
by word and sign, and succeeded at least in showing that he had been
in danger. Nas Ta Bega followed the tracks a little way and presently
returned.

"Shadd," he said, with an ominous shake of his head. Shefford did not
understand whether he meant the name of his visitor or something else,
but the menace connected with the word was clear enough.

Glen Naspa mounted her pony, and it was a graceful action that pleased
Shefford. He climbed a little stiffly in