"We'll decide that while we ride along to-morrow," Frank answered. "Perhaps it may seem better that we leave our horses there, and take the train for the Grand Canyon; though I'm inclined to make another day of it, and follow the old wagon trail over the mesa, and through the pine forest past Red Butte, to Grand View."
"Listen to Buckskin snorting; what d'ye suppose ails him?" asked Bob, as his chum stopped speaking.
"I was just going to say that myself," remarked Frank, putting out his hand for his rifle; and at the same time scattering the brands of the dying fire so that darkness quickly fell upon the spot.
"Too late, I'm afraid," muttered Bob.
"Seems like it, because the horses are sure coming straight for us," said Frank; "but there are many people moving around in this section, and perhaps some tenderfeet from the East have lost themselves, and would be glad of a chance to sit by our blaze and taste antelope meat, fresh where it is grown. Step back, Bob, and let's wait to see what turns up!"Contents
"What had we ought to do?" asked Bob.
"They must have seen our fire, and that's what made them head this way. So, all we can do is to wait, and see what they want," replied Frank.
"But there don't seem to be many in the party," his chum went on.
"I think not more than two, Bob."
"You can tell from the beat of their horses' hoofs—is that it?" inquired the boy who wanted to learn.
"Yes, it's easy enough, Bob."
By this time the sounds had grown quite loud, and both boys strained their eyes, trying to locate the approaching horsemen. In the old days on the plains every stranger was deemed an enemy until he had proven himself a friend. Nowadays it is hardly so positive as that; but nevertheless those who are wise take no chances.
"I see them!" Bob announced; but although the other saddle boy had not said so, he had picked up the advancing figures several seconds before.
"One thing sure," remarked Frank, as though relieved, "I reckon they can't be horse thieves or cattle rustlers."
"You mean they wouldn't be so bold about coming forward?" ventured Bob.
"That's about the size of it; but we'll soon know," Frank went on.
As the strangers drew rapidly nearer he began to make out their "style" for the night was not intensely dark. And somehow Frank's curiosity increased in bounds. He discovered no signs of the customary cowboy outfit about them. They wore garments that savored of civilization, and sat their horses with the air of men accustomed to much riding.
"Hold hard there, strangers; or you'll be riding us down!" Frank sang out, as the newcomers loomed up close at hand.
At that the others drew rein, and brought their horses to a halt. Bending low in the saddle they seemed to be peering at the dimly-seen figures of the two boys.
"Who is it—speak quick!" one of the strangers said; and Frank believed he heard a suspicious click accompanying the thrilling words.
"Two boys bound for Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon," he answered, not wishing to take any unnecessary chances.
"Where from, and what's your names?" continuedthe other, in his commanding voice, that somehow told Frank he must be one accustomed to demanding obedience.
The ranch boy no longer felt any uneasiness. He believed that these men were not to be feared.
"I am the son of Colonel Haywood, owner of the Circle Ranch; and this is my chum, Bob Archer, a Kentucky boy," he said, boldly.
Then the other man, who as yet had not spoken, took occasion to remark:
"'Taint them, after all, Stanwix! Perhaps we've been following the wrong trail."
The name gave Frank an idea. He had heard more or less about the doings of a sheriff in a neighboring county, called Yavapai, and his name was the same as that mentioned by the second dimly seen rider.
"Are you gentlemen from Prescott?" he asked.
"That's where I hold out when I'm home," replied the one who had asked about their identity.
"Are you Sheriff Stanwix?" pursued the boy, while his companion almost held his breath in suspense.
"I am; and this is Hand, who holds the same office in this county of Coconino," replied the other, as he threw a leg over his saddle as though about to dismount.
Both of them joined the boys, leaving theirhorses to stand with the bridles thrown over their heads, cowboy fashion.
Frank meanwhile had picked up some small fuel, and thrown it on the still smouldering fire. It immediately started up into a blaze that continued to increase.
They could now see that their visitors were two keen-eyed men. The evidence of their calling lay in the stars that decorated their left breasts. Both looked as though they could hold their own against odds. And of course they were armed as became their dangerous profession.
Bob was especially interested. He had never really had anything to do with an officer of the law; and surveyed the pair with all the ardor of boyish curiosity.
To see one sheriff was a treat; but to have two drop down upon them after this fashion must be an event worth remembering.
"We had the good luck to knock over a young antelope just before dark," Frank remarked, after each of the men had insisted in gravely shaking hands with both himself and Bob. "Perhaps you haven't had any supper, and wouldn't mind taking pot luck with us?"
"How about that, Hand?" questioned the taller man, turning with a laugh to the second sheriff.
"Just suits me," came the reply, as the speaker threw himself down on the hard ground. "Halfan hour's rest will do the hosses some good, too."
"Thank you, boys, we accept, and with pleasure," Mr. Stanwix went on, turning again toward Frank.
Bob immediately got busy, and started to cut further bits from the carcase of his small antelope. There would be plenty for even the healthy appetites of the two officers, and then leave enough for the boys' breakfast.
"We're in something of a hurry to get on to Flagstaff ourselves, boys," the Yavapai sheriff remarked, as he sniffed the cooking venison with relish; "but the temptation to hold over a bit is too strong. You see, Hand and myself have just made up our minds to bag our birds this trip, no matter where it takes us, or how long we're on the job."
"Then you're after some cattle rustlers or bad men, I reckon," Frank remarked.
"A couple of the worst scoundrels ever known around these diggings," replied the officer. "They've been jumping from one county into another, when pushed; and in the end Hand, here, and myself concluded we'd just join our forces. We've got a posse to the south, and another working to the north; but we happened to strike the trail of our birds just before dusk, and we've been following it in hopes of reaching Flagstaff before they can get down into the gash, and hide."
"A trail, you say?" Frank observed. "Could it have been the one I've been following just out of curiosity, and because it seemed to run in the very direction my chum and myself were bound?"
"That's just what it was, Frank," the sheriff answered, as he accepted the hot piece of browned venison, stick and all, which Bob was holding out. "We saw that there had come into the trail the marks of two new hosses; and naturally enough we got the idea that it might mean our men were being followed by a couple of their own kind."
"Then when you saw our little fire, you thought we were the kind of steers you wanted to round up?" the boy asked.
"Oh! well," Mr. Stanwix replied with a little chuckle; "we kept a touch on our irons when I was asking you who you were; and if the reply hadn't been all that it was, I reckon we'd have politely asked you to throw up your hands, boys. But say, this meat is prime, and seems to go to the spot."
"I don't know which spot you mean, Stanwix," remarked the other officer, who was also munching away like a half-starved man; "but mine suits me all right. I'm right glad we stopped. The rest will tone the nags up for a long pull; and as for me, I'll be in great shape after this feed."
Bob was kept busy cooking more and more, for the two men seemed to realize, after once gettinga taste, that they were desperately hungry. But he did it with pleasure. There was something genial about the manner of Mr. Stanwix that quite captured the heart of the Kentucky lad. He knew the tall man could be as gentle as a woman, if the occasion ever arose when he had a wounded comrade to nurse; and if his reputation did not speak wrongly his courage was decidedly great.
While they sat there the two men talked of various subjects. Frank was curious to know something about those whom they were now banded together in a determined effort to capture, and so Mr. Stanwix told a few outlines of the case.
The men were known as the Arizona Kid and Big Bill Guffey. They had been cattlemen, miners, and about every other thing known to the Southwest. By degrees they had acquired the reputation of being bad men; and all sorts of lawless doings were laid at their door. And finally it came to defying the sheriff, evading capture by flitting to another county, and playing a game of hide-and-seek, until their bold methods were the talk of the whole country.
Then it was the Coconino sheriff had conceived the idea of an alliance with his brother officer in the adjoining county, of which the thriving city of Prescott was the seat of government.
Frank even had Mr. Stanwix describe the two men whom the officers were pursuing.
"We expect to be around the Grand Canyon for some weeks," the lad remarked; "and it might be we'd run across these chaps. To know who they were, would be putting us on our guard, and besides, perhaps we might be able to get notice to you, sir."
"That sounds all right, Frank," the other had hastened to reply; "and believe me, I appreciate your friendly feelings. It's the duty of all good citizens to back up the man they've put in office, when he's trying to free the community of a bad crowd."
Then he explained just how they might get word to him in case they had anything of importance to communicate. Although the Tarapai sheriff knew nothing about wireless telegraphy, he did understand some of the methods which savage tribes in many countries use in order to send news hundreds of miles; sometimes by a chain of drums stationed on the hill tops miles apart; or it may be by the waving of a red flag.
"And I want to tell you, Frank," Mr. Stanwix concluded, "if so be you ever do have occasion to send me that message, just make up your minds that I'll come to you on the jump, with Hand at my heels. But for your own sakes I hope you won't run across these two hard cases. We'vegot an idea that they mean to do some hold-up game in the Grand Canyon, where hundreds of rich travelers gather. And if luck favors us we expect to put a spoke in their wheel before they run far!"Contents
Sheriff Stanwix arose with a sigh.
"Reckon we'd better be moving on, Hand," he said, evidently with reluctance; for it was very pleasant sitting there, taking his ease beside the camp fire of the two boys; but when duty called this man never let anything stand in the way.
Their horses had not strayed far away. Like most animals they had sought the company of their kind, as various sounds indicated, Buckskin doubtless showing his prairie strain by sundry nips with his teeth at the strangers.
Another shake of hands all around; then the sheriffs threw themselves into their saddles, and were off. The last the two lads saw of them was when their figures were swallowed up in the night-mists; and then it was a friendly wave of the arm that told how much they had appreciated the hospitality of the saddle boys.
"Well, anyhow, it doesn't seem quite so lonely out here, after all," said Frank, laughing, as he and his chum settled down again.
"Why, no," added Bob, "I thought we ownedthe whole coop; but I take it back. There are others abroad, it seems."
"I only hope those two fly-by-night birds don't take a notion to double on their trail, and come back to pay us a visit," Frank remarked; and of course Bob understood that he meant the bad men who were being rounded up by Sheriff Stanwix, aided by the official of Coconino County.
"Perhaps we'd better douse the glim, then?" Bob suggested.
"Let it burn out," Frank remarked; "I don't believe there's much chance of anybody else seeing it now; because it's pretty low. Our tent shows up about as plain, come to think of it; but I don't mean to do without shelter."
They sat there, chatting on various subjects, for some time. Of course their mission to the region of the greatest natural wonder in the world took a leading part in this conversation. But then they also spoke of their recent visitors; and as Bob showed signs of considerable interest, Frank told all he had ever heard about the valor of the Prescott sheriff.
"I don't know how you feel about it, Bob," he said, at length, with a yawn, "but I'm getting mighty sleepy."
"Same here; and I move we turn in," Bob immediately replied.
Accordingly, as the idea had received unanimousapproval, they took a look at the horses, now staked out with the ropes, and, finding them comfortable, both boys crawled under the canvas.
Some hours later they were aroused suddenly by a shrill yell. As they sat up, and groped for their rifles, not realizing what manner of peril could be hanging over them, the loud snorting of the horses came to their ears.
"Come on!" exclaimed Frank, in considerable excitement. "Sounds like somebody might be bothering our mounts!"
Bob had not been so very long in the Western country; but he knew what that meant all right. Horses were supposed to be the most valuable possessions among men who spent their lives on the great plains and deserts of this region. In the old days it was deemed a capital crime to steal horses.
So Bob, shivering with excitement, but not fear, hastened to follow at the heels of his chum, as Frank hastily crawled out of the tent.
A rather battered looking moon was part way up in the Eastern heavens. Though the light she gave was none of the best, still, to the boys, coming from the interior of the tent, it seemed quite enough to enable them to see their way about, and even distinguish objects at a little distance.
Frank lost no time heading in the direction where he knew the horses had been staked out.
"Anyhow, they don't seem to have got them yet," remarked Bob, gleefully, as the sound of prancing and snorting came to their ears louder than ever.
Frank stopped for a couple of seconds to listen.
"Buckskin is carrying on something fierce," he muttered. "He seems to be furiously mad, too. Perhaps, after all, it may be a bear sniffing around; though I'd never expect to find such a thing out here, so far away from the mountains."
He again started on, with Bob close at his elbow. The words of his chum had given the Kentucky lad new cause for other thrills. What if it should prove to be a grizzly bear? He had had one experience with such a monster, and was not particularly anxious for another, not being in the big game class.
Now they were approaching the spot where the two roped horses were jumping restlessly about, making queer sounds that could only indicate alarm.
Frank spoke to his animal immediately, thinking to reassure him.
"Easy now, Buckskin; what's making you act this way? I don't see any enemy. If you've given a false alarm, it'll sure be for the first time!"
"Frank!" ventured the other lad, just then.
"What is it, Bob?"
"I thought I heard a low groan!" continued the Kentucky boy, in awed tones.
"You did?" ejaculated Frank, quickly. "Have you any idea where it came from?"
As if to make it quite unnecessary for Bob to reply, there came just then a low but distinct grunt or groan. Frank could not tell which.
"Over this way, Frank; he's in this direction!" exclaimed the impulsive Bob, as he started to move off.
"Wait a minute," said the practical and cautious Frank. "You never know what sort of game you're up against, around here. Some of these horse thieves can toll a fellow away from his camp to beat the band, while a mate gets off with the saddle band. I've been warned against that very sort of play. Go slow, Bob, and keep a finger on your trigger, I tell you."
They advanced slowly, looking all around in the dim moonlight. Twice more the strange sounds arose. Frank jumped to the conclusion that it was, after all, no attempt to draw them farther and farther away from the tent; because the groans seemed to come from the one spot, instead of gradually moving off in a tempting manner.
"Here he is, Bob!" he said, presently; and the other, looking, saw a huddled-up figure lyingupon the ground in the midst of the low buffalo berry bushes.
Immediately they were bending over the form, which had moved at their approach.
"Why, it's an Indian, Frank!" cried Bob, in surprise.
"Yes, and unless I miss my guess, a Moqui Indian at that," Frank replied. "Three of them wandered down our way once, and gave us some interesting exhibitions of their customs. You know their home is up to the north. They are said to be the descendants of the old cliff dwellers who made all those holes high up in the rocks, to keep out of the reach of enemies."
He was bending down over the other even while saying this; and feeling to see if the Indian could have been wounded in any way.
"What seems to be the matter with him, Frank?" asked Bob, when this thing had been going on for a full minute, the stricken man grunting, and Frank appearing to continue his investigations.
"I tell you what," Frank remarked, presently; "I honestly believe he's been kicked by the heels of my sassy little Buckskin; perhaps he's badly hurt; and then again, he may only have had the wind knocked out of him. That horse is as bad as any mule you ever saw, when it comes to planting his heels."
"But what was he prowling around the camp for?" asked Bob, who had a hazy idea concerning the red men of the West, gained perhaps from early reading of the attacks on the wagon trains of the pioneers of the prairie.
"Oh! these Moqui Indians wouldn't do a white man any harm, unless they happened to take too much juice of the agave plant, in the shape of mescal," Frank hastened to say; "and I don't seem to get the smell of that stuff. So the chances are that he had something of an eye to our horses."
"And as he didn't know about Buckskin's ways he gave the little pony a chance to get in some dents. But he may be badly hurt, Frank," Bob went on, his natural kindness of heart cropping up above any feeling of animosity he might have experienced.
"I suppose, then, we'll just have to tote the beggar to the tent, and start up that fire again, while we look him over. If those hind feet came slap against his ribs, the chances are we'll find a few of them broken."
Swinging their rifles into one hand they managed to take hold of the grunting Moqui, and in this primitive fashion began hauling him along. Buckskin continued to prance and snort as though demanding whether he had not amply fulfilled his duty as guardian to the camp; but no one paid theleast attention to him just then. Arriving at the tent the boys proceeded to rekindle the fire.
"Why, he's coming to, Frank!" exclaimed Bob, as, having finished his task, he turned to see his chum bending over the victim of Buckskin's hoofs, and noted that the would-be horse thief was struggling to sit up.
"I don't believe he's hurt very bad," Frank declared. "I've felt all over his body, and don't seem to find any signs of broken bones."
"Listen to him gasp right now, as if the breath had been knocked out of him," remarked Bob. "He's going to speak, Frank, sure he is. I wonder can we understand what he says. Moqui wasn't included in my education at the Military Institution at Frankfort."
The Indian was indeed trying to get enough air in his lungs to enable him to say something.Contents
"No hurt Havasupai!" was what he managed to say, hoarsely.
"We're not going to hurt you, old man," remarked Frank; for he had seen that the Indian was no stripling. "What we want to know is, how you came to get so close to the heels of my horse as to be kicked? Tell us that, Havasupai, if you please."
There was no answer, although twice the exhausted red man opened his lips as if to speak.
"That knocks the props out from under him, Frank," remarked Bob; "because he was bent on getting away with one or both mounts."
"How about that, Havasupai; weren't you thinking of stealing a horse, when that animal just keeled you over so neatly?" Frank demanded.
The Indian was sitting up now. His head was hanging low on his chest. Perhaps it was shame that caused this: or it might have been a desire to keep his face hidden from the searching eyes of the white boys.
Then, as though realizing the utter folly of denying what must appear so evident, he nodded his head slowly.
"It is true, white boy," he muttered, in fair English. "Havasupai meant to take a horse. He had looked upon the man who beckons, and he was afraid, because he had trouble at his village. He believed every man's hand was against him. And so he would flee to the desert where the white man's big medicine would not find him. There he might die with the poison snakes and the whooping birds."
Bob was of course puzzled by some of the things the Indian said.
"What does he mean, Frank?" he asked.
"I take it the warrior has been in some sort of fuss at his village," the other replied. "Perhaps he even struck his chief in anger, and that made an offense punishable with death. These Moqui Indians are a queer lot, anyhow, I've heard. Then he must have skipped out, and by accident seeing our friend, Sheriff Stanwix, known to him as the 'man who beckons,' he just imagined they were looking for him."
"And that locoed him so much that he just couldn't stand it any longer," Bob said. "Discovering our camp he got the notion in his head that a horse might take him out of the danger zone. So he was in the act of jumping on one ofour mounts when your clever little beast took a hand, or rather a hoof, in the matter. But do you know what he means by whooping birds?"
"Well, I can give a guess," replied Frank. "That must mean the little owl that lives with the prairie dogs in their holes, along with the poison snake, otherwise the rattler."
"Looks like we've just got our hands full to-night, Frank!"
"You're right, Bob. First we feed two hungry sheriffs, and pick up quite a little news about the bad men they're looking for. Next, along comes this Moqui, Havasupai he says his name is, and he gets in a bad fix by trying to run off our horses; and feeling sorry for the old chap we lug him to our tent, and look him over, ready to even bind up his wounds, if he has any."
"Getting to be a habit, isn't it, Frank?"
"Seems like it," returned the taller boy, as he once more turned toward the seated Indian. "Here, can you tell us where my horse kicked you?"
"It matters not much. Havasupai get what he needs because he try to steal horse from good white boys," came the humble reply.
"One thing sure," remarked Frank aside to his chum, "he's been in touch with the whites a heap, or he wouldn't know how to talk as he does. But then, that isn't so queer. You know that theseMoquis pick up a lot of good coin from the travelers who come and go at the Grand Canyon."
"Why, yes," Bob went on to say, "I've always heard that one of the sights of this wonderland was the snake dance of the Moquis. I read an account of it in a magazine once. It said that hundreds of people gathered from many quarters to be on hand and see it, because it occurs only once a year. Some of them were big guns in science, too."
"They're getting more and more interested in these Indians of the Southwest," Frank continued; "and trying all the time to find out just where they fit in the long-ago past. That's what made old Uncle Felix, who had already made a name for himself, give up his happy home, and hide all these months down here. He wants to learn the long-buried secrets of the past history of the Zunis, the Moquis, and other tribes that might have sprung from the old cliff builders."
"But what can we do with this fellow, Frank?"
"Oh! well, nothing much, I reckon," the other answered, carelessly. "He must have been plum locoed at seeing the sheriff, and hardly knew what he was doing when he set out to grab Buckskin. We'll just have to let him sleep here till morning, and then give him a bite of breakfast."
"Just as you say, Frank; you ought to know what's best," Bob hastened to declare. "Now Iwonder what'll be the next thing on the programme? I hope we don't have the two men the sheriff is hunting, drop in to make us a call."
"Little danger of that now," Frank remarked reassuringly. "By this time they're well on their way to Flagstaff. Here, Havasupai, as you call yourself; we don't mean to do you any harm, even if you did play us a mean trick when you tried to steal a mount. Understand?"
The old Indian looked up at Frank through his masses of coarse black hair, just beginning to be streaked with gray.
"Not do any harm," he repeated, as though hardly able to grasp the meaning of the words Frank spoke; then his brown face lighted up with a grim smile. "White boys good; Havasupai glad him not take horse. Bad Indian! But not always that way; him carry speaking paper tell how make good," and he thumped his breast as he said this.
Again did Bob's eyes seek the face of his chum in a questioning manner. Frank, having been raised amid such scenes, could more readily understand what the Moqui meant when he referred to certain things which Bob had never heard mentioned before.
"He means that he's got a letter of recommendation along with him, written by some tourist, I reckon. Perhaps this old fellow may havefound a chance to do some one a good turn. He may have run across a greenhorn wandering on the desert; saved a fellow who had been stabbed by the fangs of a viper from the Gila; or helped him to camp when he broke a leg in climbing around the Grand Canyon."
"Oh! I see what you mean, Frank; that this party wrote out a recommendation to all concerned, stating that in his opinion Havasupai was a fine fellow, and worth trusting. But then that was before he got into this trouble at this village. If he's a fugitive from justice at the hands of his own tribe, such a paper isn't worth much, I guess."
"No more it isn't," agreed Frank.
"But all the same he means to stick us with it," chuckled Bob; "for you can see he's got his hand in his shirt right now, as if searching for something so valuable that he won't even carry it in his ditty bag."
"That's right, Bob."
"And now he's got in touch with that old letter," grunted Bob. "I suppose we'll just have to read it to please him."
"You can if you care to," remarked Frank. "As for me, I'm that sleepy I only want a chance to crawl back into the tent, and take up my interrupted nap where it broke off."
"But good gracious! do you really mean it?" exclaimed the puzzled Bob.
"Why not?" demanded his chum.
"And leave him loose here, with the horses close by?" Bob went on, aghast.
At that Frank laughed a little.
"Well," he said, drily; "so far as the horses are concerned, I reckon our old friend Havasupai will go a long way on foot before he ever tries to steal a promising looking pony again. As long as he lives he'll remember how it feels to get a pair of hoofs fairly planted against his back. So long, Bob. Tell the old fraud he can lie down anywhere he pleases, and share our breakfast in the morning."
"That's the way you rub it in, Frank; returning evil with good," the Kentucky boy remarked. "But since you want me to take him in hand, I'll be the victim, and read his letter of recommendation, though I can already guess what it will say."
The old Moqui had meanwhile succeeded in getting out the paper which he seemed to set so much store by. Looking up, and seeing that Frank had turned away, he offered it to Bob, who took it gravely, and proceeded to hold it so that the light of the little fire would fall upon the writing.
Frank was half way in the tent when he heard his chum give utterance to a shout. He backed out again, and turning, looked hastily, half expectingto see Bob engaged in a tussle with the old Indian.
Nothing of the sort met his gaze. The Moqui was sitting there, staring at Bob, who had straightened up, and was starting to dance around, holding the paper in his extended hand.
"What ails you, Bob?" demanded the other. "Haven't been taken with a sudden pain, after all that venison you stowed away, I hope."
"Come out here, Frank!" called the lad by the fire. "Of all the luck! to think we'd strike such a piece as this! It's rich! It's the finest ever! We go to hunt for clues, and here they come straight to us. Talk to me about the favors of fortune, why, we're in it up to the neck!"
"You seem to be tickled about something, Bob; has that paper any connection with it?" demanded Frank.
"Well I should say, yes, by a big jugfull," replied the Kentucky boy. "And you'll agree with me when I tell you it's signed by Professor Felix Oswald, the very man we're going to search the Grand Canyon up and down to find!"Contents
"Do you really mean it, Bob?" asked Frank, with the bewildered air of one who suspects a joke.
"Take it yourself, and see," replied the other, holding out the discolored and wrinkled sheet on which the writing was still plainly to be read.
Frank bent over, the better to allow the firelight to fall upon the queer document. This was what he read in a rather crabbed hand, though the writing could be read fairly well:
"To Whom it May Concern; Greeting!
"This is to certify to the good character of the bearer, a Moqui Indian by the name of Havasupai, who has rendered me a very great service, which proves him to be the friend of the white man, and a believer in the pursuit of science. I cheerfully recommend him to all who may be in need of a trustworthy and capable guide to the Grand Canyon.
"Professor Oswald."
Frank looked up to see the grinning face of his chum thrust close to him.
"Think it's genuine, Frank?" demanded the other.
"I can see no reason why it shouldn't be," answered the other, glancing down again at the crumpled paper he held, and which the old Moqui was regarding with the greatest of pride on his brown face.
"Looks like that paper Mr. Hinchman brought to my dad; yes, I'd stake my word on it, Bob, that the same hand wrote both."
"But how d'ye suppose this greasy old Indian ever got the document?" asked the young Kentuckian.
"We'll have to put it up to him, and find out," came the reply. "He can speak United States all right; we've found that out already; and so you see, there's no reason under the sun why he shouldn't want to tell us."
He turned to the Moqui. It was not the same sleepy boy apparently who, but a minute before, had started to creep into the comfortable tent, where the blankets lay; but a wide-awake fellow, eager to ascertain under what conditions this fugitive brave could have secured such a letter of recommendation from the man of science, who was supposed to have utterly vanished from the haunts of men without leaving a single trace behind,up to the hour that message came to Colonel Haywood.
Holding the paper up, and shaking it slightly, Frank started to put the Moqui warrior on the rack.
"This belong to you, Havasupai?" he demanded, trying to assume a stern manner, such as he believed would affect the other more or less, and be apt to bring out straight answers to his leading questions.
"The white boy has said," answered the other, for an Indian seldom answers in a direct way.
"Where did you get it?" Frank continued, slowly, as if feeling his way; for he did not wish to alarm the Indian, knowing how obstinate a Moqui may prove if he once suspects that he is being coaxed into betraying some secret or a friend.
The black, bead-like eyes were on the face of Frank as he put these questions. Doubtless the old Moqui balanced every one well before venturing a reply.
"He gave it," nodding in the direction of the paper Frank held.
"Do you mean the man who signed his name here, Professor Oswald?"
A nod of the head in the affirmative settled that question.
"Was he a small man with a bald head, nohair on top, and wearing glasses over his eyes, big, staring glasses?"
Frank aided comprehension by touching the top of his own head when speaking about the loss of hair on the part of the noted scientist; and then made rings with his fingers and thumbs which he clapped to his eyes as though looking through a pair of spectacles.
Evidently the Moqui understood. Reading signs was a part of his early education. In fact it comprised nearly four-fifths of all the Indian knew.
"White boy heap wise; he know that the man give Havasupai talking paper. Much great man; know all. Tell Havasupai about cliff men. Find much good cook pot, heap more stuff in cave. Find out how cave men live. Write all down in book. Send Havasupai one, promise. It is well!"
"But where did you meet him?" asked Frank; and he saw at once that this was getting very near the danger line, judging from the manner in which the Moqui acted; for he seemed to draw back, just as the alarmed tortoise will hide its head in its shell at the first sign of peril.
"In canyon where picture rocks laugh at sun," the Indian slowly said.
"That ought to stand for the Grand Canyon," remarked the boy.
The keen ears of the Moqui caught the words, although they were almost spoken in whispers, and only intended for Bob.
He nodded violently, and Frank somehow found himself wondering whether, after all, the shrewd Indian might not be wanting to deceive him. He may have conceived the idea that these two white boys were the enemies of the queer old professor; and for that reason would be careful how he betrayed the man who trusted him.
"Listen, Moqui," said Frank, putting on a serious manner, so as to impress the other; "we are the friends of the little-old-man who has no hair on top of his head. We want to see him, talk with him! It means much good to him. He will be glad if you help us find him. Do you understand that?"
The Indian's black eyes roved from one to the other of those bright young faces. Apparently he would be foolish to suspect even for a minute that the two lads could have any evil design in their minds.
Still, the crafty look on his brown face grew more intense.
"He has some good reason for refusing to accommodate us, I'm afraid," Bob said just then, as if he too had read the signs of that set countenance.
"Why don't you answer me, Moqui?" Frankinsisted, bent on knowing the worst. "We are on the way now to find the man who gave you this letter that talks. We have some good news for him. And you can help us if you will only tell in what part of the Grand Canyon Echo Cave lies."
The Indian seemed to ponder. Evidently his mind worked slowly, when it tried to grapple with secrets. But one thing he knew, and this must be some solemn promise he had made the man of science, never under any conditions to betray his hiding-place to a living soul.
"No can say; in canyon where picture rocks lie; that all," he finally declared, and Frank knew Indians well enough to feel sure that no torture could be painful enough to induce Havasupai to betray one he believed his friend, and whose magic talking paper he carried inside his shirt, to prove his good character.
"That settles it, Bob, I'm afraid," he remarked to his chum, who had been listening eagerly to all that was being said. "You might try all sorts of terrible things and he wouldn't whisper a word, even if he believed all we told him."
"That's tough," observed Bob; "but anyhow, we've got something out of it all, because we know now that the silly old professor must be hiding in one of those cliff caves, trying to readup the whole life history of the queer people who dug their homes out of the solid rock, tier after tier, away up the face of the cliffs."
"True for you, Bob, and I'm glad to see how you take it. I had hoped the Moqui might make our job easier, as he could do, all right, if only he wanted to tell us a few things. But we're no worse off than we were before, in all things, and some better in a few."
"I wish I could talk Moqui," declared Bob; "and perhaps then I'd be able to make the old fellow understand. Perhaps, Frank, if you gave him a little note to Uncle Felix, he might promise to take it to him later on!"
"Hello! that's a good idea, I declare," exclaimed Frank; "and I'll just do that same while I think of it."
He immediately drew out a pad of paper, and a fountain pen which he often carried for business purposes, since there were times when he had to sign documents as a witness for his father.
The old Moqui watched him closely. Evidently the spider-like handwriting was a deep mystery to him, and he must always feel a certain amount of respect for any white person who could communicate with another by means of the "talking paper."
"There," said Frank, presently, "that ought to do the business, I reckon."