the wise old chief of all the Navajos on the Painted Desert.
It may interest you to know he is Mescal's grandfather. Some day I'll
tell you the story."

Hare tried very hard to appear unconscious when two tall Indians stalked
into the circle of Mormons; he set his eyes on the white heart of the
camp-fire and waited. For several minutes no one spoke or even moved.
The Indians remained standing for a time; then seated themselves.
Presently August Naab greeted them in the Navajo language. This was a
signal for Hare to use his eyes and ears. Another interval of silence
followed before they began to talk. Hare could see only their blanketed
shoulders and black heads.

"Jack, come round here," said Naab at length. "I've been telling them
about you. These Indians do not like the whites, except my own family. I
hope you'll make friends with them."

"How do?" said the chief whom Naab had called Eschtah, a stately,
keen-eyed warrior, despite his age.

The next Navajo greeted him with a guttural word. This was a warrior
whose name might well have been Scarface, for the signs of conflict were
there. It was a face like a bronze mask, cast in the one expression of
untamed desert fierceness.

Hare bowed to each and felt himself searched by burning eyes, which were
doubtful, yet not unfriendly.

"Shake," finally said Eschtah, offering his hand.

"Ugh!" exclaimed Scarbreast, extending a bare silver-braceleted arm.

This sign of friendship pleased Naab. He wished to enlist the sympathies
of the Navajo chieftains in the young man's behalf. In his ensuing
speech, which was plentifully emphasized with gestures, he lapsed often
into English, saying "weak--no strong" when he placed his hand on Hare's
legs, and "bad" when he touched the young man's chest, concluding with
the words "sick--sick."

Scarbreast regarded Hare with great earnestness, and when Naab had
finished he said: "Chineago--ping!" and rubbed his hand over his
stomach.

"He says you need meat--lots of deer-meat," translated Naab.

"Sick," repeated Eschtah, whose English was intelligible. He appeared
to be casting about in his mind for additional words to express his
knowledge of the white man's tongue, and, failing, continued in Navajo:
"Tohodena--moocha--malocha."

Hare was nonplussed at the roar of laughter from the Mormons. August
shook like a mountain in an earthquake.

"Eschtah says, 'you hurry, get many squaws--many wives.'"

Other Indians, russet-skinned