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Always as a boy and as a man he had fared forth to find the treasure at the foot of the rainbow. Next morning the Indian girl was gone and the tracks of her pony led north. Shefford's first thought was to wonder if he would overtake her on the trail; and this surprised him with the proof of how unconsciously his resolve to go on had formed. Presbrey made no further attempt to turn Shefford back.
I'm ignorant of Indians how they're controlled. Still I'm no fool.... If Willetts didn't mean evil, at least he was brutal." "He was teaching her religion," replied Presbrey. His tone held faint scorn and implied a joke, but his face did not change in the slightest. Without understanding just why, Shefford felt his conviction justified and his action approved.
"How so?" inquired the other. Then Shefford related the incident following his arrival. "Perhaps my action was hasty," he concluded, apologetically. "I didn't think. Indeed, I'm surprised at myself." Presbrey made no comment and his face was as hard to read as one of the distant bluffs. "But what did the man mean?" asked Shefford, conscious of a little heat. "I'm a stranger out here.
Then Shefford made out that they were approaching him. Thereafter they rapidly increased to normal proportions of man and beast. When Shefford met them he saw a powerful, heavily built young man leading two ponies. "You're Mr. Presbrey, the trader?" inquired Shefford. "Yes, I'm Presbrey, without the Mister," he replied. "My name's Shefford. I'm knocking about on the desert.
"Did you stop at Moen Ave?" "No. What place is that?" "A missionary lives there. Did you stop at Tuba?" "Only long enough to drink and water my horse. That was a wonderful spring for the desert." "You said you were a wanderer.... Do you want a job? I'll give you one." "No, thank you, Presbrey." "I saw your pack. That's no pack to travel with in this country. Your horse won't last, either.
Presbrey stared with his deep-set eyes and wagged his tousled head and stared again; then with the quick perception of the practical desert man he said: "I'm sending teamsters in to Flagstaff to-morrow. Wife and I will go along with you. We've light wagons. Three days, maybe or four and we'll be there.... Shefford, I'm going to see you marry Fay Larkin!"
Through a heavy, stifling pall Nas Ta Bega somehow got Shefford to the trading-post at Red Lake. Presbrey attended to Shefford's injury and made him comfortable. Next day Joe Lake limped in, surly and somber, with the news that Shadd and eight or ten of his outlaw gang had gotten away with the pack-train.
They roved searchingly over Shefford's pack and then over his person. Shefford felt for the gun that Presbrey had given him. But it was gone. He had left it back where he had lost his horse, and had not thought of it since. Then a strange, slow-coming cold agitation possessed Shefford. Something gripped his throat. Suddenly Shefford was stricken at a menacing movement on the part of the horseman.
"Better not wash your face often while you're in the desert. Bad plan," went on Presbrey, noting how gingerly his visitor had gone about his ablutions. "Well, come and eat." Shefford marked that if the trader did live a lonely life he fared well. There was more on the table than twice two men could have eaten.
She had little feet, incased in brown moccasins, fitting like gloves and buttoning over the ankles with silver coins. "Who was that man? Did he hurt you?" inquired Shefford, turning to gaze down the valley where a moving black object showed on the bare sand. "No savvy," replied the Indian girl. "Where's the trader Presbrey?" asked Shefford. She pointed straight down into the red valley.
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