The Rainbow Trail

ession of intense interest. Nas Ta Bega's easy, graceful pose had succeeded to one of strained rigidity. He seemed

fears for their lives. They could live in Surprise Valley. But Venters always intended to come back with Bess and find the valley and his friends. No wonder he and Bess were haunted. However, when his wife had the baby that made a difference. It meant he had to go alone. And he was thinking seriously of s

the grip of a man in whom emotion was pow

e, the Mormons for polygamy, the Mormons over here in Stonebridge took their sealed wives and moved them out of Utah, just across the line. They built houses, established a village there. I'm the only Gentile who knows about it. And I pack supplies every few weeks in to these women. There are perhaps fifty women, mostly y

concerned. I believe they are a good, law-abiding people. But this law is a direct blow at their religion. In my opinion they can't obey both. And therefore they have not altogether given up

t, as I told you, I never heard of Lassiter or Jane Withersteen. Still, if Mormons had found them I would never have heard of it. And Deception Pass-that might be the Sagi.... I'm n

hope, I pray we can find her! But-I'd rather she

But, Shefford, you're old enough to know life doesn't work out as you wan

ake me to t

to get in bad out here,"

ined than I am now," repli

s-risk such as you never

isk any

will help you. I'll give you a job packing supplies in to the village. I meant to turn that over to a Mormon cowboy-Joe Lake. The job shall be yours, and I'll go with you first trip. Here's my hand o

ot been so agitated, he would not have answered to impulse. Bu

ubts of religion-of the Bible-of God, as my Church believed in them. As I grew older thought and study convinced me of the narrowness of religio

ible.... Well, I've been in the desert long enough to know there IS a God, but prob

chieftain while his dark, inscrutable eyes were riveted upon Shefford. At that moment he seemed magnificent. How infinitely more he seemed than just a common Indian who had chanced to befriend a whi

denly, and he pounded his knee

jaculated

e knows English. He's educated. Well, if this does

be recalling somet

Carson's round-up one of his soldiers guided some interested travelers in here. When they left they took an Indian boy with them to educate. From what I know of Navajos I'm inclined to think the boy was taken against his parents' wish. Anyway, he was taken. That boy was Nas Ta Bega. The story goes that he was educated somewhere. Years afterward, and perhaps not long before I came in here, he returned to his

ly be made to use an English word. Besides, he's a noble red man, if there ever was one. He has been a friend in need to me. If you stay long

e, from the rather rude advances of a white man," said Shefford, a

ho is bad. A bad missionary teaching religion to savages! Queer, isn't it? The queerest part is the white people's blindness-the blindness of those who send the missionaries. Well, I dare say Willetts isn't very good. When Presbrey said that was Willetts's way of teaching r

o keep his sister far removed fr

d Withers, "and I hop

over the land. Shefford saw and felt all these things, and their effect was continuous and remained with him and helped calm him. He was conscious of a burden removed from his mind. Confession of his secret had been like tearing a thorn from his flesh, but, once done, it afforded h

at his feet; and all at once he was conscious of freedom. He did not understand in the least why abasement left him, but it was so. He had come a long way, in bitterness, in despair, believing himself to be what men had called him. The desert and the stars and the wind, the silence of the night, the loneliness of this vast country where there was room for a thousand cities-th

to live," he said. "I'll be a man. I'

rd his future, he seemed to be born again, wonderfully alive to the

ford's heart had sunk the story Venters had told. Shefford found that he had unconsciously created a like romance-he had been loving a wild and st

ord felt that the Indian had been trailing him over the sand, and that this was to be a significant meeting. Remembering Withers's revelation about the Navajo, Shefford scarcely knew how to approach him now. There was no differ

re you looking f

gun," replie

ord would have thought him a white man. For Shefford there was in

ack to the desert, that you never showed your training.

eplied t

n't bet

a Na

f he cared to be the white man's friend, but the question was not easy to put, and, be

he trails and the water-hole

er you will do this

. He remembered Withers's singular praise of this re

of the mouths of those who have taught me. I must find a new voice and a new life.... You he

n a response that was more beautiful for its sil

mean when he said go to the Nav

... Will you go with Nas Ta Bega i

ed I

ds and turned towa

ue to any other white man since you r

N

y are you diff

maintaine

-of Glen Naspa?"

although his service to Glen Naspa would never be forgotten, stil

and taken to California. They kept me ten years in a mission at San Bernardino and four years in a school. They said my color and my hair were all that was left of the Indian in me. But they could not

, training, religion, that had made him something more and something less than an Indian. It was something assimilated from the white man which made the Indian un

s and homes, drove him into the deserts, made him a gaunt and sleepless spiller of blood.... The blood is all spilled now, for the Indian is broken.

. . .

to him, and now it was a bed. He had preached of the heavens, but until now had never studied them. An Indian

. . .

ough unskilled at most kinds of outdoor tasks. Withers had work for ten men, if they could have bee

reeable and kindly advances. He listened to the trader's wife as she told him about the Indians, and

e had a still, smooth face, with the color of red bronze and the expression of a cherub; big, soft, dark eyes; and a winning smile. He was surprisingly different from Whisner or any Mormon character that Shefford had natural

hat almost brought the mustang to his knees. He reared then, snorted, and came down to plant his forefeet wide apart, and watched his master with defiant eyes. This mustang was the finest horse Shefford

e spoke as if he were chiding a refractory little boy. "Didn't I break you bette

burros and mustangs. Shefford had his thrilling expectancy somewhat chilled by what he considered must have been Lake's reception of the trader's plan. Lake seemed to o

plies and stock than I've ever been.... Joe, I'll back this stranger for all I'm worth. He's square.... And, Shefford, Joe Lake is a Mormon of the y

regard, or at least a singular increase of interest. Lake had been told that Shefford had been a clergyman, was now a wanderer, without any religion. Again it s

plodding, heavily laden burros. Withers came next, and he turned in his saddle to wave good-by to his wife. Joe Lake appeared t

He actually looked back at Shefford, and it was a look of speculation and disdain. Shefford took exception to Nack-yal's manner and to his reluctance to go, and especially to a habit the mustang had of turning off the trail to the left. Shefford had managed some rather spirited horses back in Illinois; and though he was willing and eager to learn all ove

jagged red peaks with an emotion he could not name. The canyon between them were purple in the shadows, the great wall

yes and ears showing fight, and his forefeet spread. He appeared to be looking at something in the trail. Shefford got up and soon saw what had been the trouble. A long, crooked stick, rather thick and black and yellow, lay in the trail, and any mustan

walked. The trail suddenly stood on end and led down into the deep wash, where some days before he had seen the stream of reddish water. This day there appeared to be less water and it was not so red. Nack-yal sank deep as he took short and careful steps down. The burros and other mustangs were drinking, and Nack-yal followed suit. The Indian, with a hand clutching his mustang's mane, rode up a steep, sandy slope

the valley look narrow, yet it must have been half a mile wide. The slopes under the cliffs were dotted with huge stones and cedar-trees. There were deep indentations in t

ride just in advanc

ost more than once, hunting mustangs in here. I've an idea Nas Ta Bega knows all this country.

hollowing out a bridge. They came presently to a region of intersecting canyon, and here the breaking of the trail up and down the deep washes took Withers back to his task with the burros and gave Shefford more concern than he liked with Nack-yal. The mustang grew unruly and was continually turning to the left. Sometimes he tried to climb the steep slope. He had to be pulle

ppened. Shefford received a sudden propelling jolt, and then he was rising into the air, and then falling. Before he alighted he had a clear image of Nack-yal in the air above him, bent double, and seemingly possessed of devils. Then Shefford hit the ground with no light thud. He was thoroughly angry when he got dizzily upon his feet, but he was not quick enough to catch the mustang. Nac

was darkening into purple shadow while the other shone through a golden haze. It was a weird, wild world

and nipping a tuft of grass. Evidently he was too intelligent to go on fast enough to be caught by Withers. Also he kept continually looking up the slope to the left a

a cedar ridge, crossed some sandy washes, turned a corner of bold wall to enter a wide, green level. The mustangs were rolling and snorting. He heard the bray of a burro. A bright blaze of camp-fire greeted him, and the da

k-yal bucke

parated himself from me in a new

eye," replied Lake; and

mustang, nothing like Joe's Navvy or that gray mare Dynamit

," said Shefford. Both men liked his reply

the most serious things in a way to make Shefford wonder if he was not joking. Withers talked about the canyon, the Indians, the mustangs, the scorpio