eard subdued voices. He dismounted and walked to an open door.
In the dark interior he dimly descried a high counter, a stairway, a
pile of bags of flour, blankets, and silver-ornamented objects, but the
persons he had heard were not in that part of the house. Around another
corner of the octagon-shaped wall he found another open door, and
through it saw goat-skins and a mound of dirty sheep-wool, black and
brown and white. It was light in this part of the building. When he
crossed the threshold he was astounded to see a man struggling with
a girl--an Indian girl. She was straining back from him, panting, and
uttering low guttural sounds. The man's face was corded and dark with
passion. This scene affected Shefford strangely. Primitive emotions were
new to him.

Before Shefford could speak the girl broke loose and turned to flee. She
was an Indian and this place was the uncivilized desert, but Shefford
knew terror when he saw it. Like a dog the man rushed after her. It was
instinct that made Shefford strike, and his blow laid the man flat. He
lay stunned a moment, then raised himself to a sitting posture, his
hand to his face, and the gaze he fixed upon Shefford seemed to combine
astonishment and rage.

"I hope you're not Presbrey," said Shefford, slowly. He felt awkward,
not sure of himself.

The man appeared about to burst into speech, but repressed it. There
was blood on his mouth and his hand. Hastily he scrambled to his feet.
Shefford saw this man's amaze and rage change to shame. He was tall and
rather stout; he had a smooth tanned face, soft of outline, with a weak
chin; his eyes were dark. The look of him and his corduroys and his soft
shoes gave Shefford an impression that he was not a man who worked hard.
By contrast with the few other worn and rugged desert men Shefford had
met this stranger stood out strikingly. He stooped to pick up a soft
felt hat and, jamming it on his head, he hurried out. Shefford followed
him and watched him from the door. He went directly to the corral,
mounted the pony, and rode out, to turn down the slope toward the south.
When he reached the level of the basin, where evidently the sand was
hard, he put the pony to a lope and gradually drew away.

"Well!" ejaculated Shefford. He did not know what to make of this
adventure. Presently he became aware that the Indian girl was sitting on
a roll of blankets near the wall. With curious interest Shefford studied
her appearance. She had