warriors, with black hair held close by
bands round their foreheads, joined the circle, and sitting before the
fire clasped their knees and talked. Hare listened awhile, and then,
being fatigued, he sought the cedar-tree where he had left his blankets.
The dry mat of needles made an odorous bed. He placed a sack of grain
for a pillow, and doubling up one blanket to lie upon, he pulled the
others over him. Then he watched and listened. The cedar-wood burned
with a clear flame, and occasionally snapped out a red spark. The voices
of the Navajos, scarcely audible, sounded "toa's" and "taa's"--syllables
he soon learned were characteristic and dominant--in low, deep murmurs.
It reminded Hare of something that before had been pleasant to his ear.
Then it came to mind: a remembrance of Mescal's sweet voice, and that
recalled the kinship between her and the Navajo chieftain. He looked
about, endeavoring to find her in the ring of light, for he felt in
her a fascination akin to the charm of this twilight hour. Dusky forms
passed to and fro under the trees; the tinkle of bells on hobbled
mustangs rang from the forest; coyotes had begun their night quest
with wild howls; the camp-fire burned red, and shadows flickered on the
blanketed Indians; the wind now moaned, now lulled in the cedars.

Hare lay back in his blankets and saw lustrous stars through the network
of branches. With their light in his face and the cold wind waving
his hair on his brow he thought of the strangeness of it all, of its
remoteness from anything ever known to him before, of its inexpressible
wildness. And a rush of emotion he failed wholly to stifle proved to
him that he could have loved this life if--if he had not of late come to
believe that he had not long to live. Still Naab's influence exorcised
even that one sad thought; and he flung it from him in resentment.

Sleep did not come so readily; he was not very well this night; the
flush of fever was on his cheek, and the heat of feverish blood burned
his body. He raised himself and, resolutely seeking for distraction,
once more stared at the camp-fire. Some time must have passed during his
dreaming, for only three persons were in sight. Naab's broad back was
bowed and his head nodded. Across the fire in its ruddy flicker sat
Eschtah beside a slight, dark figure. At second glance Hare recognized
Mescal. Surprise claimed him, not more for her presence there than for
the white band binding her smooth blac