gue, or it was cut out, but he has the best eyes of
any Indian I know. You see this point commands the farm, the crossing,
the Navajo Trail over the river, the Echo Cliffs opposite, where the
Navajos signal to me, and also the White Sage Trail."

The oasis shone under the triangular promontory; the river with its
rising roar wound in bold curve from the split in the cliffs. To the
right white-sloped Coconina breasted the horizon. Forward across the
Canyon line opened the many-hued desert.

"With this peon watching here I'm not likely to be surprised," said
Naab. "That strip of sand protects me at night from approach, and I've
never had anything to fear from across the river."

Naab's peon came from a little cave in the wall; and grinned the
greeting he could not speak. To Hare's uneducated eye all Indians
resembled each other. Yet this one stood apart from the others, not
differing in blanketed leanness, or straggling black hair, or bronze
skin, but in the bird-of-prey cast of his features and the wildness of
his glittering eyes. Naab gave him a bag from one of the packs, spoke a
few words in Navajo, and then slapped the burros into the trail.

The climb thenceforth was more rapid because less steep, and the trail
now led among broken fragments of cliff. The color of the stones had
changed from red to yellow, and small cedars grew in protected places.
Hare's judgment of height had such frequent cause for correction that he
gave up trying to estimate the altitude. The ride had begun to tell on
his strength, and toward the end he thought he could not manage to stay
longer upon Noddle. The air had grown thin and cold, and though the sun
was yet an hour high, his fingers were numb.

"Hang on, Jack," cheered August. "We're almost up."

At last Black Bolly disappeared, likewise the bobbing burros, one by
one, then Noddle, wagging his ears, reached a level. Then Hare saw a
gray-green cedar forest, with yellow crags rising in the background, and
a rush of cold wind smote his face. For a moment he choked; he could not
get his breath. The air was thin and rare, and he inhaled deeply trying
to overcome the suffocation. Presently he realized that the trouble
was not with the rarity of the atmosphere, but with the bitter-sweet
penetrating odor it carried. He was almost stifled. It was not like the
smell of pine, though it made him think of pine-trees.

"Ha! that's good!" said Naab, expanding his great chest. "That's air for
y