rge you with the care
of my padrecito. If you promise me, I know that he will return to me
safely."

I set out on my long night-walk, stumbling over rocks and boulders in
the darkness. It was a beautiful night, the crisp atmosphere was laden
with the fragrant exhalation of the nut pines and junipers and there
was not a breath of air stirring. I got down to water at midnight, the
time of moonrise, filled my canteen and started on the return trip.
Slowly I reascended the steep mesa, and when I reached the summit I sat
down on a rock in a thicket of junipers. The moon had now risen above
the trees and cast its dim light over an enchanting scene. The sense of
utter loneliness, a homesickness, a feeling of premonition, stole over
me, and weirdly I sensed the presence of I knew not what. From the
shadows spoke an owl, sadly, anxiously, "Hoo, hoo! Where are you? You!"
and his mate answered him tenderly, seductively, "Tee, hee! Come to me!
Me!"

In the west, far, far away, clustered a range of mountains, spread out
like an enormous horse-shoe and in its center arose the form of a
solitary hill. In the heavens from the east drifted a white, ragged
cloud. The solitary hill seemed to rise high and higher and all the
mountains bowed before it. The spectral cloud resolved itself into a
terrible vision which enveloped the central hill. Great Heavens! Again
I saw the phantom dog and fancied that I heard shrill screams of
"Perro, perro, gringo perro!" A crackling noise, a coming shadow, and
forward I fell on my face, ever on the alert, ever ready. An unearthly
yell and a great body flew over, fierce claws grazing me. Two balls of
fire shone in the bush, but my rifle cracked and a great lion fell in
its tracks. I expected my companions to meet me soon, coming my way.
Instead, I found them, after my all-night's walk, snugly camped where I
had left them. Don Juan explained that with God's favor they had found
the water soon after I had left them. He said that they had called loud
and long after me, but I did not seem to hear.

This day we descended the mesa and entered the valley of the Verde
River, one of Arizona's permanent water courses. This valley is
cultivated for at least forty miles from its source to where it enters
precipitous mountains. We forded the crystal waters of the river at
Camp Verde, an army post, and crossed another range of mountains and
several valleys into a comparatively open country, and on the night of
a day