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Holderness stole it. And he's begun to range over the divide." The sun rose and warmed the chill air. Hare began to notice the increased height and abundance of the sagebrush, which was darker in color. The first cedar-tree, stunted in growth, dead at the top, was the half-way mark up the ascent, so Naab said; it was also the forerunner of other cedars which increased in number toward the summit.
"Then listen. I'll get you out of this canyon and take you home. You are mine and I'll keep you." He held her tightly with strong arms; his face paled, his eyes darkened. "I don't want to meet Snap Naab. I shall try to keep out of his way. I hope I can. But Mescal, I'm yours now. Your happiness perhaps your life depends on me. That makes a difference. Understand!"
The afternoon waned into twilight, and Hare sought the quiet shadows under the wall near the river trail. He meant to stay there until August Naab had pronounced his son and Mescal man and wife. The dull roar of the rapids borne on a faint puff of westerly breeze was lulled into a soothing murmur. A radiant white star peeped over the black rim of the wall.
"It's Billy, up on the home trail," added George "Yes, and there's father with him. Good Lord, must we tell him about Snap?" "Some one must tell him," answered Dave. "That'll be you, then. You always do the talking." August Naab galloped into the glade, and swung himself out of the saddle. "I heard a shot. What's this? Who's hurt? Hare! Why lad how is it with you?" "Not bad," rejoined Hare.
Naab explained that the products of his oasis were abnormal; the ground was exceedingly rich and could be kept always wet; the reflection of the sun from the walls robbed even winter of any rigor, and the spring, summer, and autumn were tropical.
His rider bent low to dodge the vines of the arbor, and reined in before the porch to slip out of the saddle with the agility of an Indian. It was Dene, dark, smiling, nonchalant. "What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?" challenged August Naab, planting his broad bulk square before Hare. "Dene's spy!" "What do you seek in the house of a Bishop?" repeated Naab.
Hare recalled how humbly he had expressed his gratitude to Naab, and the apparent impossibility of ever repaying him, and then Naab's reply: "Lad, you can never tell how one man may repay another." Hare could pay his own debt and that of the many wanderers who had drifted across the sands to find a home with the Mormon.
Our party was now increased by another 'prince, Sultan Haidar, son of the sultan of Naab, a person delightful to contemplate. He was got up in Bedou style; his hair, fluffy and long, was tied back by a fillet and stuck out in a bush behind. He had a curious countenance and very weak eyes. He was wrapped in a couple of large blue cotton cloths with very long fringes, half a yard at least.
He walked Silvermane most of the way, and jogged along the rest, so that he reached the village in the twilight. Memory served him well. He rode in as August Naab had ridden out, and arrived at the Bishop's barn-yard, where he put up his horse. Then he went to the house. It was necessary to introduce himself for none of the Bishop's family recognized in him the young man they had once befriended.
"Find her, somebody Hester!" "Son, this is the Sabbath," called Father Naab, gravely. "Lower your voice. Now what's the matter?" "Matter!" bawled Snap, giving way to rage. "When I was asleep Hester stole all my clothes. She's hid them she's run off there's not a d n thing for me to put on! I'll " The roar of laughter from August and Dave drowned the rest of the speech.
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