-winds sweeping from his silver mane.
He dreamed of Mescal's brooding eyes. They were dark gateways of the
desert open only to him, and he entered to chase the alluring stars
deep into the purple distance. He dreamed of himself waiting in serene
confidence for some unknown thing to pass. He awakened late in the
morning and found the house hushed. The day wore on in a repose
unstirred by breeze and sound, in accord with the mourning of August
Naab. At noon a solemn procession wended its slow course to the shadow
of the red cliff, and as solemnly returned.

Then a long-drawn piercing Indian whoop broke the midday hush. It
heralded the approach of the Navajos. In single-file they rode up the
lane, and when the falcon-eyed Eschtah dismounted before his white
friend, the line of his warriors still turned the corner of the red
wall. Next to the chieftain rode Scarbreast, the grim war-lord of the
Navajos. His followers trailed into the grove. Their sinewy bronze
bodies, almost naked, glistened wet from the river. Full a hundred
strong were they, a silent, lean-limbed desert troop.

"The White Prophet's fires burned bright," said the chieftain. "Eschtah
is here."

"The Navajo is a friend," replied Naab. "The white man needs counsel and
help. He has fallen upon evil days."

"Eschtah sees war in the eyes of his friend."

"War, chief, war! Let the Navajo and his warriors rest and eat. Then we
shall speak."

A single command from the Navajo broke the waiting files of warriors.
Mustangs were turned into the fields, packs were unstrapped from the
burros, blankets spread under the cottonwoods. When the afternoon waned
and the shade from the western wall crept into the oasis, August Naab
came from his cabin clad in buckskins, with a large blue Colt swinging
handle outward from his left hip. He ordered his sons to replenish
the fire which had been built in the circle, and when the fierce-eyed
Indians gathered round the blaze he called to his women to bring meat
and drink.

Hare's unnatural calmness had prevailed until he saw Naab stride out
to front the waiting Indians. Then a ripple of cold passed over him.
He leaned against a tree in the shadow and watched the gray-faced giant
stalking to and fro before his Indian friends. A long while he strode
in the circle of light to pause at length before the chieftains and to
break the impressive silence with his deep voice.

"Eschtah sees before him a friend stung to his heart. Men of