"Not so well this morning, eh? Here's a cup of coffee. We're all packed
and starting. Drink now, and climb aboard. We expect to make Seeping

Springs to-night."
Hare rose presently and, laboring into the wagon, lay down on the sacks.

He had one of his blind, sickening headaches. The familiar lumbering of
wheels began, and the clanking of the wagon-chain. Despite jar and jolt

he dozed at times, awakening to the scrape of the wheel on the leathern
brake. After a while the rapid descent of the wagon changed to a roll,

without the irritating rattle. He saw a narrow valley; on one side the
green, slow-swelling cedar slope of the mountain; on the other the

perpendicular red wall, with its pinnacles like spears against the sky.
All day this backwardoutlook was the same, except that each time he

opened aching eyes the valley had lengthened, the red wall and green
slope had come closer together in the distance. By and by there came a

halt, the din of stamping horses and sharp commands, the bustle and
confusion of camp. Naab spoke kindly to him, but he refused any food,

lay still and went to sleep.
Daylight brought him the relief of a clear head and cooled blood. The

camp had been pitched close under the red wall. A lichen-covered cliff,
wet with dripping water, overhung a round pool. A ditch led the water

down the ridge to a pond. Cattle stood up to their knees drinking;
others lay on the yellow clay, which was packed as hard as stone; still

others were climbing the ridge and passing down on both sides.
"You look as if you enjoyed that water," remarked Naab, when Hare

presented himself at the fire. "Well, it's good, only a little salty.
Seeping Springs this is, and it's mine. This ridge we call The Saddle;

you see it dips between wall and mountain and separates two valleys.
This valley we go through to-day is where my cattle range. At the other

end is Silver Cup Spring, also mine. Keep your eyes open now, my lad."
How different was the beginning of this day! The sky was as blue as the

sea; the valley snuggled deep in the embrace of wall and mountain. Hare
took a place on the seat beside Naab and faced the descent. The line of

Navajos, a graceful straggling curve of color on the trail, led the way
for the white-domed wagons.

Naab pointed to a little calf lying half hidden under a bunch of sage.
"That's what I hate to see. There's a calf, just born; its mother has

gone in for water. Wolves and lions range this valley. We lose hundreds
of calves that way."

As far as Hare could see red and white and black cattle speckled the
valley.

"If not overstocked, this range is the best in Utah," said Naab. "I say
Utah, but it's really Arizona. The Grand Canyon seems to us Mormons to

mark the line. There's enough browse here to feed a hundred thousand
cattle. But water's the thing. In some seasons the springs go almost

dry, though Silver Cup holds her own well enough for my cattle."
Hare marked the tufts of grass lying far apart on the yellow earth;

evidently there was sustenance enough in every two feet of ground to
support only one tuft.

"What's that?" he asked, noting a rolling cloud of dust with black
bobbing borders.

"Wild mustangs," replied Naab. "There are perhaps five thousand on the
mountain, and they are getting to be a nuisance. They're almost as bad

as sheep on the browse; and I should tell you that if sheep pass over a
range once the cattle will starve. The mustangs are getting too

plentiful. There are also several bands of wild horses."
"What's the difference between wild horses and mustangs?"

"I haven't figured that out yet. Some say the Spaniards left horses in
here three hundred years ago. Wild? They are wilder than any naturally

wild animal that ever ran on four legs. Wait till you get a look at
Silvermane or Whitefoot."

"What are they?"
"Wild stallions. Silvermane is an iron gray, with a silver mane, the

most beautiful horse I ever saw. Whitefoot's an old black shaggy demon,
with one white foot. Both stallions ought to be killed. They fight my

horses and lead off the mares. I had a chance to shoot Silvermane on the
way over this trip, but he looked so splendid that I just laid down my

rifle."
"Can they run?" asked Hare eagerly, with the eyes of a man who loved a

horse.
"Run? Whew! Just you wait till you see Silvermane cover ground! He can

look over his shoulder at you and beat any horse in this country. The
Navajos have given up catching him as a bad job. Why--here! Jack! quick,

get out your rifle--coyotes!"
Naab pulled on the reins, and pointed to one side. Hare discerned three

grayish sharp-nosed beasts sneaking off in the sage, and he reached back
for the rifle. Naab whistled, stopping the coyotes; then Hare shot. The

ball cut a wisp of dust above and beyond them. They loped away into the
sage.

"How that rifle spangs!" exclaimed Naab." It's good to hear it. Jack,
you shot high. That's the trouble with men who have never shot at game.

They can't hold low enough. Aim low, lower than you want. Ha! There's
another--this side--hold ahead of him and low, quick!--too high again."

It was in this way that August and Hare fell far behind the other wagons.
The nearer Naab got to his home the more genial he became. When he was

not answering Hare's queries he was giving information of his own accord,
telling about the cattle and the range, the mustangs, the Navajos, and

the desert Naab liked to talk; he had said he had not the gift of
revelation, but he certainly had the gift of tongues.

The sun was in the west when they began to climb a ridge. A short
ascent, and a long turn to the right brought them under a bold spur of

the mountain which shut out the northwest. Camp had been pitched in a
grove of trees of a species new to Hare. From under a bowlder gushed the

sparkling spring, a grateful sight and sound to desert travellers. In a
niche of the rock hung a silver cup.

"Jack, no man knows how old this cup is, or anything about it. We named
the spring after it--Silver Cup. The strange thing is that the cup has

never been lost nor stolen. But--could any desert man, or outlaw, or
Indian, take it away, after drinking here?"

The cup was nicked and battered, bright on the sides, moss-green on the
bottom. When Hare drank from it he understood.

That evening there was rude merriment around the campfire. Snap Naab
buzzed on his jews'-harp and sang. He stirred some of the younger braves

to dancing, and they stamped and swung their arms, singing, "hoya-heeya-
howya," as they moved in and out of the firelight.

Several of the braves showed great interest in Snap's jews'-harp and
repeatedly asked him for it. Finally the Mormon grudgingly lent it to a

curious Indian, who in trying to play it went through such awkward
motions and made such queer sounds that his companions set upon him and

fought for possession of the instrument. Then Snap, becoming solicitous
for its welfare, jumped into the fray. They tussled for it amid the

clamor of a delightedcircle. Snap, passing from jest to earnest, grew
so strenuous in his efforts to regain the harp that he tossed the Navajos

about like shuttle-cocks. He got the harp and, concealing it, sought to
break away. But the braves laid hold upon him, threw him to the ground,

and calmly sat astride him while they went through his pockets. August
Naab roared his merriment and Hare laughed till he cried. The incident

was as surprising to him as it was amusing. These serious Mormons and
silent Navajos were capable of mirth.

Hare would have stayed up as late as any of them, but August's saying to
him, "Get to bed: to-morrow will be bad!" sent him off to his blankets,

where he was soon fast asleep. Morning found him well, hungry, eager to
know what the day would bring.

"Wait," said August, soberly.
They rode out of the gray pocket in the ridge and began to climb. Hare

had not noticed the rise till they were started, and then, as the horses
climbed steadily he grew impatient at the monotonousascent. There was

nothing to see; frequently it seemed that they were soon to reach the
summit, but still it rose above them. Hare went back to his comfortable

place on the sacks.
"Now, Jack," said August.