Lone Pine: The Story of a Lost Mine

by A. M. Chisholm

  CHAPTER XII

  PACIFYING A GHOST

  "Say," asked Mr. Backus, as the pair rode out of the pueblo side byside, "how're ye getting on with the silver-mine question? Had any newdevelopments?"

  "No," replied the prospector, "I bounced them straight out about it lastnight, and learned nothing. They just won't open their heads on thesubject at all. They simply swear there never was a mine, and I don'tbelieve it's any use to go on working at them."

  "And what'll you do next?" queried the storekeeper.

  "To tell you the truth," said Stephens simply, "I've not quite made upmy mind what I want to do, but I'm much inclined to chuck it up."

  "Look at here," interjected Backus, "did ye ever think to try themNavajos? They used to roam all over these mountains in the old days, andthey know 'em still just like a book. They know what silver is, too, foryou see all their high-u-muck-a-mucks wearing plates of it all over 'em.How about them knowing where the mine is?"

  "I doubt it," returned Stephens. "They'd have sold the secret of it tothe Mexicans long ago if they had known it."

  "They're too suspicious of the Mexicans to do that," said the other;"they don't trust 'em. They'd be afraid they'd cheat 'em; but mebbe theymight trust you or me enough to think we'd pay 'em if we promised to."

  "They don't trust the Mexicans far, by all accounts," said Stephens, "Iallow that much. But say--I want to know more about this fuss betweenDon Andres and the Navajo. How was it?"

  "Oh," said Backus, "the Navajo came to the sheep camp where Andres waswith his two herders. The Navajo had his squaw along. And he and Andresgot to playing cards by the firelight, and Andres won all the money hehad, six dollars and a half. And then the Injun got mad and swore Andreshad cheated him. And Andres told him to go to Halifax! And then theInjun got madder, and drawed his butcher-knife and went for Andres rightthere. But Andres was too darn quick for him, and pulled his gun,--hewears a mighty nice pistol, does Andres, a Smith and Wessonnickel-plated,--and he plugged him just under the heart and laid himout. And then the squaw bawled and ran off into the woods, and Andresand the two sheep-herders were powerful frightened over what they'ddone, and they chucked the body on the camp-fire to burn it up, and theypacked their camp outfit and drove the sheep herd that night right awayto the Ojo Escondido. But when the squaw got back to the other Injunsand told them, they just naturally knew their best plan was to come downon old man Sanchez at oncet. That's why they're here. They got here thismorning, and Andres come in only a few hours ahead of 'em, aboutmidnight last night."

  "Well I'm sorry for Don Nepomuceno," said Stephens.

  "And he's tarnation sorry for himself too, you bet," added the Texan."He's in an awful sweat over his flock of sheep. I never saw a man looksicker. Why, if the Navajos was to run off his sheep it'd bust him wideopen. He's liable to have to make the original herd good to old manBaca, you see."

  "By George!" returned Stephens, "I don't wonder he's in a sweat. Whatdoes he want to see me for, d'you know?"

  "Wal'," replied Backus, "he reckons that as an American you might beable to help him some. The Americans are running this Territory now, andthe Navajos have darned good reason to know it, and he thinks they'llmind you. I left him and some of his compadres pow-wowing away with themoutside the house, but they hadn't come to no conclusion. Pretty MissManuelita"--he looked knowingly at the prospector--"was just crying hereyes out over her brother inside. She thinks he'll be killed, sure."

  Stephens touched his mare with the spurs. "I'll gallop ahead, I think,"he said, raising his reins, "but I'll be obliged to you if you'll bringthat mule along quietly and just put him in your stable till I can comeround for him. So long." He gave the mare her head, and in a moment shewas skimming like a swallow over the gentle undulations of the dustystretch of the Indian lands. Backus jogged along, watching the mare andher rider grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

  "You don't just know what you want yourself," said he, apostrophisinghis late companion, "but I think I know about what you want, and I'llmake it my business, Mr. Stephens, to see that you don't get it." Thelook in his eye as he spoke was not amiable.

  It was not exactly a cheerful sight that greeted the American on hisarrival at San Remo. The palaver was in progress, and there against ablank wall outside the Sanchez house squatted eleven very glum-facedNavajos, while on the ground opposite to them in the strong morninglight sat Don Nepomuceno and three of his relations who had come to givehim their support.

  The eleven Indians were the first Navajos Stephens had ever seen, and heeyed them with no little curiosity. "Call these wild Indians?" he feltlike saying: "why they look as civilised as the Pueblos." This wasbecause of their dress mainly. They did not have their hair braided inlocks with beaver fur like the mountain Utes, or twisted up like any ofthe plains Indians; each had a bright red kerchief bound turban-wiseround his snaky black locks, just like the Pueblo Indians, except thathe wore no "chungo," or pigtail, at the back. Neither was their colouras dark as that of the Utes or the Sioux; they were distinctly lighter."Perhaps living further south they wash more," he thought, "and that mayaccount for it." Then, in lieu of buffalo robes and buckskins they wereclad in neat belted tunics and loose cotton breeches, and for a wrap ormantle had gaily striped blankets of their own weaving. "Real tony theirblankets are," said he to himself, "and just as pretty as a paintedmule." A _pinto_, or piebald, mule is an extraordinary rarity, and it isquoted in the Far West as the highest standard of picturesque beauty.

  No; as far as dress went they did not look like wild Indians at all, atleast not like any he had ever seen. But when he came to look at theirfaces he changed his mind. Not that they were all alike; on the contrarythe diversity of types was remarkable. There were lowbrowed,thick-lipped, thick-nosed, heavy-jawed men among them, and there wereothers with fine aquiline features and regular, well-shaped mouths. Buttheir bold, impudent, cunning eyes betrayed them. One and all theylooked thorough rascals. As Stephens ran his eye over them, his acuteglance rested on a big, hawk-faced man with a sullen expression, who satin the middle of them smoking a cigarette with an air of unconcern. Hisbroad leather belt was studded with great bosses of shining silver.

  "How," said Stephens, dismounting and looking straight at this Indianwhom he took for the chief, but the latter gazed at him stolidly withouttaking any notice. The Mexican rose and welcomed him warmly.

  "Come round with me to the corral, Don Estevan," said Sanchez as hedismounted; "let me put the mare up for you. Pedro, the peon, is keepingthe house door. My unlucky boy Andres is inside. Ah, what a foolish boyto go and gamble with an Indian! The storekeeper will have told you ofour trouble."

  "Yes," said Stephens, "he told me that the Navajos were demanding yourwhole flock of sheep."

  "Oh, not really," replied the Mexican; "that is, they only threaten totake them if I don't pay. But they positively and actually have theimpudence to demand that I should pay them a thousand dollars, silverdollars, for one scrub Indian," he groaned.

  "It sounds a good lot," said Stephens reflectively.

  "Oh, it's ridiculous," said the disconsolate Mexican. "A thousanddollars for one miserable, low-down Indian. I've offered them a hundredand twenty-five, and that's more than he was worth to them twice over.But they say he belonged to Ankitona's family." He busied himselfundoing the latigo strap of the hair cinch.

  "But, look here," rejoined the American, to whom this exactappraisement of the value of one "low-down Indian" was a novelty;"according to the way Mr. Backus gave me the story as we rode down, Ican't see why you should have to pay anything to them at all. If DonAndres killed the Indian in self-defence, any court in this countrywould clear him. Do they deny it? Do they say that he attacked theIndian first?"

  "Oh, no," said the Mexican, "you don't understand; his acting inself-defence doesn't make any difference." He spread the saddle blanketover the mare, tying it on with a cord surcingle. "She's hot," heobserved, "she'd best have it on till she's cool. No," he repeated, asthey turned
back to the scene of the palaver, "it isn't a matter wherelaw courts count for anything. Our courts don't ever bind the Navajos.The one thing that does count in our dealings with them is whether weare at peace or at war. Now, if we were at war with them at present theywouldn't come here to ask for pay. No, they'd go straight off and justkill or carry away captive any Mexicans they could catch in revenge.But, you see, we're at peace; so the rule is, if any Mexican kills aNavajo he must pay. They think that if his family don't make theMexicans pay up for the dead man his ghost will haunt them. Theirreligion, you see, binds them, if I don't pay, to kill my son, or elsemaybe me, or some other member of my family; and very likely they'll cutmy sheep herd some night and run off a lot of the sheep besides. Oh,I've got to pay." He groaned again.

  "Well, Don Nepomuceno," said the American, "I'm real sorry to hear ofyour ill-luck. I call it a very hard case. If there's anything I can doto help you, you can count on me. All the same, if that Indian came atDon Andres with a knife I don't myself see what else he could do exceptshoot, and I ain't the man to blame him for defending himself. Say, now,before we go back to where the Navajos are, you just tell me what youthink I can do to be of assistance."

  The strictly business footing, so to speak, on which Don Nepomucenodealt with the subject puzzled the prospector not a little, and he wasafraid lest by interfering ignorantly he might only make things worse.

  "Well, Don Estevan, these Navajos think a deal of an American's opinion,naturally; so, since you are so kind, I want you to use your influencewith them to make them take a more reasonable sum. A thousand dollars isall nonsense. He was quite a poor scrub Indian. He had hardly any sheepof his own, and no pony. They admit that he lived off the richer men ofhis family, so I say that they're well rid of him. They're really richerwithout him. He was, among them, like one of the poorest of our peonshere. I declare if I gave them fifty dollars for him it would be plenty.But he was one of the family of Ankitona, and he's a very powerfulchief, with lots of relations. He's not here himself--not he. He hassent his sister's son though, Mahletonkwa. He's that tall Indian with ahooked nose and the big row of silver plates all round his belt. He's aterribly bad Indian. He boasts that he never surrendered to theAmericans,--that they never could take him to the Pecos. I think he'srather afraid of them all the same, though he says he isn't, andswaggers about with his band of desperadoes. But he's quite the worstNavajo going, and there hasn't been a piece of mischief done in the lasttwo years without him and his gang having a hand in it. They're theterror of the whole country. There's another rascal there that's prettynear as bad as he is. That's the one with two feathers in hishead-dress--Notalinkwa his name is. He's a villain too."

  "I see," answered Stephens; "you want me to talk to this--what do youcall him--Mahletonkwa, and tell him that he's got to come down a bit inhis price. Do you think that'll do any good?"

  The Mexican turned his eager eyes full on Stephens, and laid his hand onhis arm. "I think it will," he cried; "you are an American, and all theNavajos think that it's their cue to keep on good terms with theAmericans. They are a good deal afraid of them since the time of theirdefeat in the Canyon de Chelly, when they learned to fear the braveCoronel Christophero Carson and that _valiente capitan_, AlbertPfeiffer. That was several years ago, and after that they surrenderedand were taken away beyond Santa Fe and kept over on the Pecos. They didhate that; they were nearly starved there, and lots of them died, and agood job too. It is only a couple of years now since they have beenallowed to come back to their own country. But even those who never werecaught and taken to the Pecos heard the story of it, and they, too, fearthe Americans. Oh yes, they listen to their agent, Senor Morton, atCanyon Bonito."

  "Well, then," exclaimed Stephens, "there's our man. Of course the Indianagent is the proper person to appeal to in a matter of this sort. ShallI tell this Mahletonkwa, then, that the moment he goes to cutting up anydidoes on his own hook round here the agent will be down on him like aknife? I'll just inquire what right Mr. Mahletonkwa has got to come hereanyhow--yes, or to be off his reservation at all. If Don Andres had goneon to their reservation and killed a Navajo there, then there might besomething to be said for their side of the argument, but if a Navajocomes here among the Mexican sheep herds he's got to abide by the lawsof New Mexico, I say."

  "Oh, Don Estevan, that's no use," answered the other sadly. "He don'tcare two _reales_ about the laws. No, you tell him that Senor Mortonwill make the soldiers come and shoot him if he or any of his familykill my son; make him believe that, if you can, and you'll be doing somegood."

  "I'll try," said the American doubtfully, "but I hardly expect he'llmind much what I say."

  The pair walked round the house to the south side, where the Navajoswere sitting, and squatted down on the dry, sandy soil opposite them,alongside of the three Mexicans. Stephens got out his tobacco-bag andpassed it round before he filled his own pipe, and began to smoke withcalculated deliberation. He had at least learned one lesson, that it isno use to hurry an Indian if you want to do business with him.

  Having got his pipe thoroughly alight and returned his tobacco-bag tohis pocket, he looked at Mahletonkwa, and said, "You come from FortDefiance?"

  The Agency at Fort Defiance, called by the Mexicans Canyon Bonito, isjust over the border line between New Mexico and Arizona, and well inthe middle of the Navajo country.

  "No," said the Indian briefly; "more this side."

  "You got leave from the agent to be off the reservation?" asked Stephenssharply.

  The Indian parried this question. "I come from my mother's brother,Ankitona," he said. "He mucho bravo--very angry about this thing." Heindicated the killing by Don Andres.

  "Likely enough," said Stephens, "but that's no answer to my question.What I want to know is if you've got leave."

  "I don't ask anybody's leave," said Mahletonkwa defiantly. "I'm not theslave of the Americans. I never went to Bosque Redondo." Bosque Redondowas the scene of their captivity over on the Pecos River.

  "Indeed!" retorted Stephens; "but, if you hear me talk, it might havebeen better for you if you had. You might have had a chance to learn howto behave yourself." If this audacious redskin was going to put on anyfrills with him he proposed to check him up short right at the start.

  Mahletonkwa chose to look very surly at this rebuff. Then he repeatedhis previous assertion. "Ankitona very angry indeed about this."

  "And quite right of him too," said Stephens. "He ought to be very angrywith your man who went and got himself killed. You've got no right tosay it's Don Andres's fault, if he had to defend himself. The man whodrew the knife is to blame."

  The Indian dissented by a gesture, but made no verbal reply.Disregarding Sanchez's warning of the futility of this argument,Stephens laboured to prove that killing done in self-defence was nothingmore than justifiable homicide. But his words seemed to take no effecton the Indian, who smoked on stolidly till it was evident that all thistalk was to no purpose. In an undertone Don Nepomuceno hinted as much.

  When at last the Navajo condescended to answer, his view of the affairproved to be very much as the Mexican had prophesied. To him it did notmatter three straws, he explained, who struck the first blow or who wasto blame for the quarrel. His point was that the family had lost avaluable asset in the shape of a warrior, for which they required a goodround sum in compensation, and not only that, but enough to enable themto give their lost relative a number of gifts that would make himcomfortable in the next world. He would require a good deal to make himcomfortable, too, for not only had he been killed, but he had been sadlydisfigured; an undeniable fact, for of course the charred object thathad been partly destroyed with fire was a horrid sight. The deadwarrior's spirit was exceedingly angry, said Mahletonkwa, and requiredto be appeased with liberal offerings, and if he wasn't properlymollified he would take it out of his neglectful family by hauntingthem. Under this spiritual compulsion it was clear that all the familywere bound to rise to the situation, he argued. There was no choice lef
tthem; they were absolutely bound, by some means or other, to extractsatisfaction from the family of the slayer. He was very much in earnest.It wasn't war by any means; no, it was a mere family affair, so tospeak. But there it was, and it would have to be arranged.

  It took Stephens some time to become convinced that Don Nepomuceno wasright, and that the dead man's ghost was at the bottom of it all.

  "You see, this is how it is, Don Estevan," said the Mexican, speaking tohim aside. "These Navajos have a sort of Purgatory of their own. Heavenforgive me for comparing their heathen superstitions to our holyreligion, but I want to make you understand. You know when our friendsdie we give the proper offerings to the priest to say masses to maketheir stay in Purgatory shorter. Well, now you have heard Mahletonkwasay that these Indians have their religion, which is all false, ofcourse, only they are obstinate and believe it, and according to that itis necessary for the family to give presents to make the spirits of thedead more happy. And they are very much afraid if they don't do it; ohyes, they are grossly superstitious; but how can I help it? How can Iteach them better? These heathens are very expensive to deal with. If hewere a Christian it wouldn't cost me half so much, but I don't supposeyou could make him see how foolish he is."

  He paused, as if a new idea had struck him. "Could you, do youthink"--he added eagerly--"could you show him the error of his ways?"

  "Jerusalem, no!" cried Stephens, taken considerably aback, "I ratherguess not. I'm not a missionary by a long shot. No sir-ee, that's atrade I never had a go at, but I'll tell you what we used to say up inMontana: 'The best missionary is a gain-twist, hair-trigger rifle thatwill convert a Sioux Indian at three hundred yards every pop.' That'swhat we said there; but I'll admit that these southern Indians down hereare a very different sort of folk. The Sioux were pure, unadulteratedsavages, but these Navajos seem to be part human. Still, I don't see myway to wading in at Messrs. Mahletonkwa and Co. with a hymn-book." Hechuckled to himself at the naivete of the Mexican's suggestion.

  "Yes," said the latter regretfully, "I feared you couldn't do it. Afterall, to be missionaries is the business of the padres and not of you orme. But I like what you told me about the missionary rifle of theAmericans that converts an Indian at three hundred yards. You tell himthat; preach that to him; put it strong." He evidently had great faithin the moral influence of the American over the Navajos from the merefact of his being an American.

  "Very well," replied Stephens, with a certain pride of race in theappeal thus made, "I'll see what I can do. Look here, Mahletonkwa," hecontinued, addressing the chief, "I've heard your talk about thisunfortunate incident, and I quite see that you've got reason on yourside, looking at it from your point of view. Of course, our point ofview is quite different; but we'll waive that for the moment. Very well.Here's Don Nepomuceno making you a very liberal offer of a hundred andtwenty-five dollars to settle the matter. Now that's a lot of money; andif you're the wise man I take you for, you'll close with it and accepthis offer. That's my advice to you. You'll find it best in the end, muchbetter business than trying to fight the United States soldiers. Thesoldiers have got repeating rifles, heap-shoot guns, mind you. If yourefuse, and go and take the law into your own hands, and attack DonAndres, or any of his family, you'll smart for it. I give you fairwarning. If you touch them I'll have the soldiers sent after you.Captain Pfeiffer aint dead yet. You've heard of him, so don't you makeany mistake about that. You hear me talk; and what I say I'll do. Mytongue is straight. I have spoken."

  His words carried weight and produced some effect, as two of the Navajosat once began to urge something on their chief with great earnestness intheir own language, apparently wishing him to comply. Stephens hadadopted the crisp, pungent sentences that appeal most to the redskin'staste. But Mahletonkwa was in no hurry to come to terms, and presentlyreplied to Stephens at some length, explaining that the offer was mostinadequate. More cash for themselves and gifts for the dead man wereindispensable, absolutely indispensable. His terms were still a thousanddollars, neither more nor less.

  "I believe that other chap--what d'you call him? Notalinkwa, looks as ifhe was inclined to vote for taking your offer," said Stephens to DonNepomuceno. He had been observing the faces of the rest of the Indiansvery closely while Mahletonkwa was speaking. "Look here. Let's leave himand his friends to argue it out; I'm sure by their looks some of themwant him to give way. They'll talk better if we're not by. Come along tothe store or somewhere."

  "Come into the house," said the Mexican, jumping up; "we can talk bettertoo when we are by ourselves," and he led the way to the great doorleading into the patio, now strongly barred and fastened. At themaster's summons the peon who was on guard hastened to unbar; the doorwas partly opened and they slipped in, the master of the house quicklyassisting the peon to replace the wooden beams that secured it as soonas they were inside, while Stephens shook hands with Don Andres, a tall,well-built young Mexican, who would have been very handsome had he notbeen marked with smallpox.

  "How do you do, Don Andres?" he said heartily. "I'm sorry for thistrouble you've got into. However, let's hope it can be fixed up allright."

  "It's very unlucky," returned the young Mexican; "I didn't want to killhim, but he would have it. I had to do something to defend my life."

  "That's just what I say," assented Stephens; "I was putting it toMahletonkwa like that just now, only he wouldn't see it. He jumped thetrack entirely, and went off into a rigmarole about ghosts and such likestuff, where I couldn't follow him, nohow."

  "You were an exasperating, foolish boy!" exclaimed Don Nepomucenotestily to his son, as the door-beam was finally wedged into its place."It's all your fault," he broke out, with vexation and almost despair inhis voice. "What I shall do I don't know. You've gone and acted like anidiot. I've told you to stop your gambling a thousand times, and thenyou must go and gamble with an Indian, a scrub Indian! Yes, an idiot,that's what you are. Come in, Don Estevan, come into the house," and heled the way to the big living-room, Don Andres following rathersheepishly. Not a word did he venture to say in reply to his angryfather's tirade. "Honour thy father" is a commandment that is far frombeing obsolete in New Mexico. If his father had taken a rod in his wrathand beaten him, this tall young man would have dutifully submittedhimself.

  "Sit down," said the master of the house hospitably, pointing to thedivan; "take a seat here, Don Estevan. Will you have something to eat?"

  "Well, thank you, Don Nepomuceno," answered Stephens, "since you are sokind, I think I will, if it isn't too much trouble. The fact is, I camedown without my breakfast."

  "Ho, there, Juana!" cried the Mexican, running to the door, "and you, mysister! Make haste, set breakfast for the senor. He is hungry. Be quicknow." A scurrying of feet was heard in the kitchen at the sound of hiscommanding voice. "And make him tortillas of wheat flour," his loudtones went on, "hot tortillas with fat, and coffee; see that you makecoffee."

  He came back and seated himself beside Stephens. "What do you thinkabout it, senor?" he inquired. "What is the best thing to be done?"

  "Well, if you ask me my deliberate opinion," said Stephens, leaning backand crossing his left leg over the other with his hands clasped roundthe knee, "I should say this: It seems to be perfectly clear that theseIndians are outside the law; it's no use to appeal to it with them. Nowthe mail goes by here to-day, noon, towards Santa Fe. I say, write tothe governor of the Territory at Santa Fe, and to the general commandingthe United States troops there, and tell them about it, and ask theirprotection. They're bound to give it you. And write to the Navajo Agencyat Fort Defiance, and tell the agent there, and ask him to haveMahletonkwa and his band brought back on to the reservation. And Ishould tell the Indians exactly what I was doing, and warn them oncemore that they'll certainly have the United States cavalry after them ifthey don't behave. If that makes them any more inclined to accept youroffer of a hundred and twenty-five dollars, why, of course you'll countthem out the money and settle it out of hand. I should call a settlementc
heap at a hundred and twenty-five dollars cash down. More than that, ifI was you, I'd raise my offer a trifle, if I thought I could afford it,so as to meet them. You heard Mahletonkwa say he wanted gifts, somesheep and a pony, to sacrifice for the dead man's ghost. I gather bywhat you tell me about their religion, that he thinks that if he killsthem for him specially, the dear departed can go and corral the ghostsof the pony and sheep in the happy hunting-grounds, and have the fullbenefit of them there. Now, you must have in your flock some oldsix-tooth ewes, that likely will never breed another lamb; give him adozen or two to butcher. And then, couldn't you trade for, or borrow,some old stove-up pony, very cheap, and let him have that, too? Thatwon't ruin you. I take it the Navajos mean to keep your good hard silverdollars for themselves, and they'll religiously send the foundered oldsheep and pony ghosts to keep their defunct relative company in thesweet by-and-by." The notion of this ghostly herd tickled his cynicalhumour mightily.

  "Yes, perhaps I might do that," said Sanchez in a saddened voice. Topart with any of his cherished flock is like drawing eye-teeth for aMexican. "I might let them have a few of my oldest ewes; they come invery useful for mutton, but if I must, I must. And my brother-in-law hasa handsome pony who is _inyerbado_; he ate poison-weed over on the RioGrande a year ago, and has never been any use since. That dead Navajowas a very poor scrub, and it would be more than good enough for him; heought to be uncommonly grateful for it."

  He spoke so feelingly that it really seemed as if he almost halfbelieved in the Purgatory of the Navajos himself. He hesitated and thenwent on. "But as for the letters, Don Estevan, it's not so easy. For onething, the governor and the general don't know Spanish; and then, youknow, I haven't much English, and I'm not much of a hand atletter-writing anyhow. I couldn't manage the letters."

  "Oh, if that's all," returned the other, "I'll write the letters for youwillingly enough. Indeed, as I'm an American, it's just possible theymay be a trifle more ready to pay attention to them. Yes, and I'll tellyou what I'll do. I'll write out an account of the killing of theNavajo for Don Andres, like an affidavit, and he shall sign it, and thenwe'll have Mr. Backus witness it and put on the post-office stamp. He'sa sort of a United States official, and it may help to make them feelmore called upon to take notice of it. That'll come as near to being aregular legal document as anything we can scare up out here. I do liketo do everything in correct legal style, when I can. I'm all for law andorder every time. That's me."

  "Ah, Don Estevan," said the elder Mexican, "it is you that have theclear head. I am very much obliged to you. Your plan is the good one."

  "Very well, then," answered Stephens, "I'll just run over to thepost-office, and get some paper and envelopes and stamps, and draw upthose letters; and as Don Andres had better not go outside the housebefore the matter is settled, I'll ask Mr. Backus to step around here inthe course of an hour, and bring his post-office stamp with him."

  He rose from his seat to go towards the door, but Don Nepomucenohospitably protested. "Wait till you have had your breakfast first, DonEstevan. It is all ready; here is Manuelita bringing it for you;" and ashe spoke the girl entered and set the table for him, as Juana had doneon the previous day. She smiled at his greeting, but her eyelids wereswollen with crying.

  At this moment there came a knocking at the outer door, and the masterof the house hastened out to see who it was demanding admittance, andwas followed by his son.

  "He's all right," said Stephens cheerfully to the girl, as he lookedinto her anxious eyes. "He's safe enough as long as he stays insidehere. They'll none bother him while he's protected by these walls. AndI've good hopes that we may be able to bring them to a reasonablesettlement, so that he can go about again in perfect safety. Don't youfret yourself over it. We'll make these Navajos sing a proper tunebefore we've done with them." He spoke with the easy confidence of a manaccustomed to deal with serious affairs, and conscious of possessing theability and the experience for handling them successfully. But he wasequally astonished and embarrassed when Manuelita, instead of appearingcalmed by his reassuring words, flung her hands over her face and burstinto a passion of sobs.