kiss on each cheek from all their friends. There
was such a lot of dancing and feasting, and drinking the native wine
secured for that grand occasion. Our plates were loaded with food of all
sorts, but I compromised with a taste of the wine and a cup of coffee.
The dancing and feasting lasted two or three days, but one day exhausted
my capacity for endurance.

Soon after the wedding, a tiny baby sister of the bride died, and its
father came to get permission to bury it in the Park cemetery. I asked
if I could do anything to help them, and Sandoval said I was to make the
dress and put it on the baby for them. He produced bright orange
organdie and pink ribbons for the purpose. Next morning I took the
completed dress and some flowers the El Tovar gardener had contributed
down to their home. I dressed the wee mite in the shroud, which was
mightily admired, and placed the crucifix the mother gave me in its tiny
waxen fist. Then the bride came with her veil and wreath of orange
blossoms, and said she wanted to give them to the little sister. The
mother spoke no English, but she pointed here and there where she wanted
the flowers and bright bows of ribbon pinned. Strange, it looked to me,
the little dead baby decked out in wedding finery, but the poor mother
was content. She patted a ribbon and smoothed the dress, saying to me in
Spanish:

"The Madonna will find my baby _so_ beautiful!"

One hot August day, the Chief and Ranger West went down into Salt Creek
Basin, at the bottom of the Canyon, to look for some Government horses
that had strayed away. In spite of their feeble protests I tagged along.

We had checked up on the stock and were following the trail homeward.
Ranger West rode in front on Black Dixie. Ordinarily he would have been
humming like an overgrown bumblebee, or talking to Dixie, who he said
was the only female he knew he would tell secrets to. But we had ridden
far that day, and the heat radiated from the great ore rocks was almost
beyond endurance. Now and then we could catch a glimpse of the river
directly at the foot of the ledge our trail followed, and the water
looked invitingly cool. All at once Dixie stopped so suddenly that
Ranger West almost took a header. A man's hat was lying in the trail.
Dismounting, the men looked for tracks. A quite legible story was
written there for them to read. Some tenderfoot, thirst-crazed, had
stumbled along that trail since we had passed that way a couple of hours