to his own saddle. Then Nas Ta
Bega got up and pointed northward.

"Kayenta?" he inquired.

Shefford nodded and then they were off, with Glen Naspa in the lead.
They did not climb the trail which they had descended, but took one
leading to the right along the base of the slope. Shefford saw down into
the red wash that bisected the canyon floor. It was a sheer wall of
red clay or loam, a hundred feet high, and at the bottom ran a swift,
shallow stream of reddish water. Then for a time a high growth of
greasewood hid the surroundings from Shefford's sight. Presently the
trail led out into the open, and Shefford saw that he was at the neck of
a wonderful valley that gradually widened with great jagged red peaks on
the left and the black mesa, now a mountain, running away to the right.
He turned to find that the opening of the Sagi could no longer be seen,
and he was conscious of a strong desire to return and explore that
canyon.

Soon Glen Naspa put her pony to a long, easy, swinging canter and her
followers did likewise. As they got outward into the valley Shefford
lost the sense of being overshadowed and crowded by the nearness of
the huge walls and crags. The trail appeared level underfoot, but at a
distance it was seen to climb. Shefford found where it disappeared over
the foot of a slope that formed a graceful rising line up to the
cedared flank of the mesa. The valley floor, widening away to the north,
remained level and green. Beyond rose the jagged range of red peaks,
all strangely cut and slanting. These distant deceiving features of
the country held Shefford's gaze until the Indian drew his attention
to things near at hand. Then Shefford saw flocks of sheep dotting
the gray-green valley, and bands of beautiful long-maned, long-tailed
ponies.

For several miles the scene did not change except that Shefford imagined
he came to see where the upland plain ended or at least broke its level.
He was right, for presently the Indian pointed, and Shefford went on to
halt upon the edge of a steep slope leading down into a valley vast in
its barren gray reaches.

"Kayenta," said Nas Ta Bega.

Shefford at first saw nothing except the monotonous gray valley reaching
far to the strange, grotesque monuments of yellow cliff. Then close
under the foot of the slope he espied two squat stone houses with red
roofs, and a corral with a pool of water shining in the sun.

The trail leading down was steep and sandy, but it was n