their little mud and stone huts and sat upon the roofs with blanketed and drooping heads.
One day August Naab showed in few words how significant a factor the sun was in the lives of desert men.
'We've got to turn back,' he said to Hare. 'The sun's getting hot and the snow will melt in the mountains. If the Colorado rises too high we can't cross.'
They were two days in riding back to the encampment. Eschtah received them in dignified silence, expressive of his regret. When their time of departure arrived he accompanied them to the head of the nearest trail, which started down from Saweep Peak, the highest point of Echo Cliffs. It was the Navajos' outlook over the Painted Desert.
'Mescal is there,' said August Naab.' She's there with the slave Eschtah gave her. He leads Mescal. Who can follow him there?'
The old chieftain reined in his horse, beside the time-hollowed trail, and the same hand that waved his white friend downward swept up in slow stately gesture toward the illimitable expanse. It was a warrior's salute to an unconquered world. Hare saw in his falcon eyes the still gleam, the brooding fire, the mystical passion that haunted the eyes of Mescal.
'The slave without a tongue is a wolf. He scents the trails and the waters. Eschtah's eyes have grown old watching here, but he has seen no Indian who could follow Mescal's slave. Eschtah will lie there, but no Indian will know the path to the place of his sleep. Mescal's trail is lost in the sand. No man may find it. Eschtah's words are wisdom. Look!'
To search for any living creatures in that borderless domain of colored dune, of shifting cloud of sand, of purple curtain shrouding mesa and dome, appeared the vainest of all human endeavors. It seemed a veritable rainbow realm of the sun. At first only the beauty stirred Hare–he saw the copper belt close under the cliffs, the white beds of alkali and washes of silt farther out, the wind-ploughed canyons and dust-encumbered ridges ranging west and east, the scalloped slopes of the flat tableland rising low, the tips of volcanic peaks leading the eye beyond to veils and vapors hovering over blue clefts and dim line of level lanes, and so on, and on, out to the vast unknown. Then Hare grasped a little of its meaning. It was a sun-painted, sun-governed world. Here was deep and majestic Nature eternal and unchangeable. But it was only through Eschtah's eyes that he saw its parched slopes, its terrifying desolateness, its sleeping death.
When the old chieftain's lips opened Hare anticipated the austere speech, the import that meant only pain to him, and his whole inner being seemed to shrink.
'The White Prophet's child of red blood is lost to him,' said Eschtah. 'The Flower of the Desert is as a grain of drifting sand.'
XIII - The Sombre Line
August Naab hoped that Mescal might have returned in his absence; but to Hare such hope was vain. The women of the oasis met them with gloomy faces presaging bad news, and they were reluctant to tell it. Mescal's flight had been forgotten in the sterner and sadder misfortune that had followed.
Snap Naab's wife lay dangerously ill, the victim of his drunken frenzy. For days after the departure of August and Jack the man had kept himself in a stupor; then his store of drink failing, he had come out of his almost senseless state into an insane frenzy. He had tried to kill his wife and wreck his cottage, being prevented in the nick of time by Dave Naab, the only one of his brothers who dared approach him. Then he had ridden off on the White Sage trail and had not been heard from since.
The Mormon put forth all his skill in surgery and medicine to save the life of his son's wife, but he admitted that he had grave misgivings as to her recovery. But these in no manner affected his patience, gentleness, and cheer. While there was life there was hope, said August Naab. He bade Hare, after he had rested awhile, to pack and ride out to the range, and tell his sons that he would come later.
It was a relief to leave the oasis, and Hare started the same day, and made Silver Cup that night. As he rode under the low-branching cedars toward the bright camp-fire he looked about him sharply. But not one of the four faces ruddy in the glow belonged to Snap Naab.
'Hello, Jack,' called Dave Naab, into the dark. 'I knew that was you. Silvermane sure rings bells when he hoofs it down the stones. How're you and dad? and did you find Mescal? I'll bet that desert child led you clear to the Little Colorado.'
Hare told the story of the fruitless search.
'It's no more than we expected,' said Dave. 'The man doesn't live who can trail the peon. Mescal's like a captured wild mustang that's slipped her halter and gone free. She'll die out there on the desert or turn into a stalk of the Indian cactus for which she's named. It's a pity, for she's a good girl, too good for Snap.'
'What's your news?' inquired Hare.
'Oh, nothing much,' replied Dave, with a short laugh. 'The cattle wintered well. We've had little to do but hang round and watch. Zeke and I chased old Whitefoot one day, and got pretty close to Seeping Springs. We met Joe Stube, a rider who was once a friend of Zeke's. He's with Holderness now, and he said that Holderness had rebuilt the corrals at the spring; also he has put up a big cabin, and he has a dozen riders there. Stube told us Snap had been shooting up White Sage. He finished up by killing Snood. They got into an argument about you.'
'About me!'
'Yes, it seems that Snood took your part, and Snap wouldn't stand for it. Too bad! Snood was a good fellow. There's no use talking, Snap's going too far–he is–'
Dave did not conclude his remark, and the silence was more significant than any utterance.
'What will the Mormons in White Sage say about Snap' killing Snood?'
'They've said a lot. This even-break business goes al right among gun-fighters, but the Mormons call killing murder. They've outlawed Culver, and Snap will be outlawed next.'
'Your father hinted that Snap would find the desert tot small for him and me?'
'Jack, you can't be too careful. I've wanted to speak tc you about it. Snap will ride in here some day and then–' Dave's pause was not reassuring.
And it was only on the third day after Dave's remark that Hare, riding down the mountain with a deer he had shot, looked out from the trail and saw Snap's cream pinto trotting toward Silver Cup. Beside Snap rode a tall man on a big bay. When Hare reached camp he reported to George and Zeke what he had seen, and learned in reply that Dave had already caught sight of the horsemen, and had gone down to the edge of the cedars. While they were speaking Dave hurriedly ran up the trail.
'It's Snap and Holderness,' he called out, sharply 'What's Snap doing with Holderness? What's he bring ing him here for?'
'I don't like the looks of it,' replied Zeke, deliberately.
'Jack, what well you do?' asked Dave, suddenly
'Do? What can I do? I'm not going to run out of camp because of a visit from men who don't like me.'
'It might be wisest.'
'Do you ask me to run to avoid a meeting with your brother?'
'No.' The dull red came to Dave's cheek.'But will you draw on him?'
'Certainly not. He's August Naab's son and your brother.'
'Yes, and you're my friend, which Snap won't think of. Will you draw on Holderness, then?'
'For the life of me, Dave, I can't tell you,' replied Hare, pacing the trail. 'Something must break loose in me before I can kill a man. I'd draw, I suppose, in self-defence. But what good would it do me to pull too late? Dave, this thing is what I've feared. I'm not afraid of Snap or Holderness, not that way. I mean I'm not ready. Look here, would either of them shoot an unarmed man?'
'Lord, I hope not; I don't think so. But you're packing your gun.'
Hare unbuckled his cartridge-belt, which held his Colt, and hung it over the pommel of his saddle; then he sat down on one of the stone seats near the camp-fire.
'There they come,' whispered Zeke, and he rose to his feet, followed by George.
'Steady, you fellows,' said Dave, with a warning glance. 'I'll do the talking.'
Holderness and Snap appeared among the cedars, and trotting out into the glade reined in their mounts a few paces from the fire. Dave Naab stood directly before Hare, and George and Zeke stepped aside.
'Howdy, boys?' called out Holderness, with a smile, which was like a gleam of light playing on a frozen lake. His amber eyes were steady, their gaze contracted into piercing yellow points. Dave studied the cattle-man with
