"Glad you slept some," was Naab's greeting." No sign of Dene yet. If we

can get over the divide we're safe. That's Coconina there, Fire Mountain
in Navajo meaning. It's a plateau low and narrow at this end, but it

runs far to the east and rises nine thousand feet. It forms a hundred
miles of the north rim of the Grand Canyon. We're across the Arizona

line now."
Hare followed the sweep of the ridge that rose to the eastward, but to

his inexperienced eyes its appearance carried no sense of its noble
proportions.

"Don't form any ideas of distance and size yet a while," said Naab,
reading Hare's expression. "They'd only have to be made over as soon as

you learn what light and air are in this country. It looks only half a
mile to the top of the divide; well, if we make it by midday we're lucky.

There, see a black spot over this way, far under the red wall? Look
sharp. Good I That's Holderness's ranch. It's thirty miles from here.

Nine Mile Valley heads in there. Once it belonged to Martin Cole.
Holderness stole it. And he's begun to range over the divide."

The sun rose and warmed the chill air. Hare began to notice the
increased height and abundance of the sagebrush, which was darker in

color. The first cedar-tree, stunted in growth, dead at the top, was the
half-way mark up the ascent, so Naab said; it was also the forerunner of

other cedars which increased in number toward the summit. At length
Hare, tired of looking upward at the creeping white wagons, closed his

eyes. The wheels crunched on the stones; the horses heaved and labored;
Naab's "Getup" was the only spoken sound; the sun beamed down warm, then

hot; and the hours passed. Some unusual noise roused Hare out of his
lethargy. The wagon was at a standstill. Naab stood on the seat with

outstretched arm. George and Dave were close by their mustangs, and Snap
Naab, mounted on a cream-colored pinto, reined him under August's arm,

and faced the valley below.
"Maybe you'll make them out," said August." I can't, and I've watched

those dust-clouds for hours. George can't decide, either."
Hare, looking at Snap, was attracted by the eyes from which his father

and brothers expected so much. If ever a human being had the eyes of a
hawk Snap Naab had them. The little brown flecks danced in clear pale

yellow. Evidently Snap had not located the perplexing dust-clouds, for
his glance drifted. Suddenly the remarkablevibration of his pupils

ceased, and his glance grew fixed, steely, certain.
"That's a bunch of wild mustangs," he said.

Hare gazed till his eyes hurt, but could see neither clouds of dust nor
moving objects. No more was said. The sons wheeled their mustangs and

rode to the fore; August Naab reseated himself and took up the reins; the
ascent proceeded.

But it proceeded leisurely, with more frequent rests. At the end of an
hour the horses toiled over the last rise to the summit and entered a

level forest of cedars; in another hour they were descending gradually.
"Here we are at the tanks," said Naab.

Hare saw that they had come up with the other wagons. George Naab was
leading a team down a rocky declivity to a pool of yellow water. The

other boys were unharnessing and unsaddling.
"About three," said Naab, looking at the sun. "We're in good time.

Jack, get out and stretch yourself. We camp here. There's the Coconina
Trail where the Navajos go in after deer."

It was not a pretty spot, this little rock-strewn glade where the white
hard trail forked with the road. The yellow water with its green scum

made Hare sick. The horses drank with loud gulps. Naub and his sons
drank of it. The women filled a pail and portioned it out in basins and

washed their faces and hands with evident pleasure. Dave Naab whistled
as he wielded an axe vigorously on a cedar. It came home to Hare that

the tension of the past night and morning had relaxed. Whether to
attribute that fact to the distance from White Sage or to the arrival at

the water-hole he could not determine. But the certainty was shown in
August's cheerful talk to the horses as he slipped bags of grain over

their noses, and in the subdued laughter of the women. Hare sent up an
unspokenthanksgiving that these good Mormons had apparently escaped from

the dangers incurred for his sake. He sat with his back to a cedar and
watched the kindling of fires, the deft manipulating of biscuit dough in

a basin, and the steaming of pots. The generous meal was spread on a
canvas cloth, around which men and women sat cross-legged, after the

fashion of Indians. Hare found it hard to adapt his long legs to the
posture, and he wondered how these men, whose legs were longer than his,

could sit so easily. It was the crown of a cheerful dinner after hours
of anxiety and abstinence to have Snap Naab speak civilly to him, and to

see him bow his head meekly as his father asked the blessing. Snap ate
as though he had utterly forgotten that he had recently killed a man; to

hear the others talk to him one would suppose that they had forgotten it
also.

All had finished eating, except Snap and Dave Naab, when one of the
mustangs neighed shrilly. Hare would not have noticed it but for looks

exchanged among the men The glances were explained a few minutes later
when a pattering of hoofs came from the cedar forest, and a stream of

mounted Indians poured into the glade.
The ugly glade became a place of color and action. The Navajos rode

wiry, wild-looking mustangs and drove ponies and burros carrying packs,
most of which consisted of deer-hides. Each Indian dismounted, and

unstrapping the blanket which had served as a saddle headed his mustang
for the water-hole and gave him a slap. Then the hides and packs were

slipped from the pack-train, and soon the pool became a kicking,
splashing melee. Every cedar - tree circling the glade and every branch

served as a peg for deer meat. Some of it was in the haunch, the bulk in
dark dried strips. The Indians laid their weapons aside. Every sagebush

and low stone held a blanket. A few of these blankets were of solid
color, most of them had bars of white and gray and red, the last color

predominating. The mustangs and burros filed out among the cedars,
nipping at the sage and the scattered tufts of spare grass. A group of

fires, sending up curling columns of blue smoke, and surrounded by a
circle of lean, half-naked, bronze-skinned Indians, cooking and eating,

completed a picture which afforded Hare the satisfying fulfilment of
boyish dreams. What a contrast to the memory of a camp-site on the

Connecticut shore, with boy friends telling tales in the glow of the
fire, and the wash of the waves on the beach!

The sun sank low in the west, sending gleams through the gnarled branches
of the cedars, and turning the green into gold. At precisely the moment

of sunset, the Mormon women broke into soft song which had the element of
prayer; and the lips of the men moved in silent harmony. Dave Naab, the

only one who smoked, removed his pipe for the moment's grace to dying
day.

This simple ceremony over, one of the boys put wood on the fire, and Snap
took a jews'-harp out of his pocket and began to extractdoleful discords

from it, for which George kicked at him in disgust, finally causing him
to leave the circle and repair to the cedars, where he twanged with

supreme egotism.
"Jack," said August Naab, "our friends the Navajo chiefs, Scarbreast and

Eschtah, are coming to visit us. Take no notice of them at first.
They've great dignity, and if you entered their hogans they'd sit for

some moments before appearing to see you. Scarbreast is a war-chief.
Eschtah is 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,