t to tell which was
the more surprised, the long-eared burro, which stood stock-still, or
the boy, who first kicked and pounded his shaggy steed, and then jumped
off and ran with black locks flying. Farther down Indian girls started
up from their tasks, and darted silently into the shade of the cedars.
August Naab whooped when he reached the valley, and Indian braves
appeared, to cluster round him, shake his hand and Hare's, and lead them
toward the centre of the encampment.

The hogans where these desert savages dwelt were all alike; only the
chief's was larger. From without it resembled a mound of clay with a few
white logs, half imbedded, shining against the brick red. August Naab
drew aside a blanket hanging over a door, and entered, beckoning his
companion to follow. Inured as Hare had become to the smell and smart of
wood-smoke, for a moment he could not see, or scarcely breathe, so
thick was the atmosphere. A fire, the size of which attested the desert
Indian's love of warmth, blazed in the middle of the hogan, and sent
part of its smoke upward through a round hole in the roof. Eschtah, with
blanket over his shoulders, his lean black head bent, sat near the
fire. He noted the entrance of his visitors, but immediately resumed his
meditative posture, and appeared to be unaware of their presence.

Hare followed August's example, sitting down and speaking no word.
His eyes, however, roved discreetly to and fro. Eschtah's three wives
presented great differences in age and appearance. The eldest was a
wrinkled, parchment-skinned old hag who sat sightless before the fire;
the next was a solid square squaw, employed in the task of combing a
naked boy's hair with a comb made of stiff thin roots tied tightly in
a round bunch. Judging from the youngster's actions and grimaces, this
combing process was not a pleasant one. The third wife, much younger,
had a comely face, and long braids of black hair, of which, evidently,
she was proud. She leaned on her knees over a flat slab of rock, and
holding in her hands a long oval stone, she rolled and mashed corn into
meal. There were young braves, handsome in their bronze-skinned way,
with bands binding their straight thick hair, silver rings in their
ears, silver bracelets on their wrists, silver buttons on their
moccasins. There were girls who looked up from their blanket-weaving
with shy curiosity, and then turned to their frames strung with long
threads. Under their nimble fing