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Updated: June 28, 2025
The old Navajo could not speak; his fine face was working in grief; tears streamed from his dim old eyes and rolled down his wrinkled cheeks. His sorrow was no different from a white man's sorrow. Beyond him Shefford saw Nas Ta Bega standing with folded arms, somehow terrible in his somber impassiveness.
"You'll come to-night later?" she asked. "Yes," he replied, hurriedly promising. Then he watched her white form slowly glide down the path to disappear in the shadows. Nas Ta Bega and Joe were busy at the camp-fire. Shefford joined them. This night he was uncommunicative. Joe peered curiously at him in the flare of the blaze.
Then the Indian called for Lassiter and Jane and Fay to come down. Shefford began to keep a sharp lookout behind and above, and did not see how the three fared on the slope, but evidently there was no mishap. Nas Ta Bega mounted the slope again, and at the moment sight of Shadd's dark bays silhouetted against the sky caused Shefford to call out: "We've got to hurry!"
The half-strangled man gasped out a few incoherent words that his livid, guilty face made unnecessary. Shefford gave him a shove and he fell into the dust at the feet of the Navajo. "Gentlemen, I leave him to Nas Ta Bega," said Shefford, with a strange change from passion to calmness.
In all the instances I know of, these educated Indians returned to their tribes, repudiating the white man's knowledge, habits, life, and religion. I have heard that Nas Ta Bega came back, laid down the white man's clothes along with the education, and never again showed that he had known either. "You have just seen how strangely he acted. It's almost certain he heard our conversation.
His duty in the matter, of course, was to tell Nas Ta Bega what he had seen. Upon reflection Shefford decided to give the missionary the benefit of a doubt; and if he really cared for the Indian girl, and admitted or betrayed it, to think all the better of him for the fact. Glen Naspa was certainly pretty enough, and probably lovable enough, to please any lonely man in this desert.
Glen Naspa has gone to her grave, and no sisters, no children, will make paths to the place of her sleep. Nas Ta Bega will never have a wife a child. He sees the end. It is the sunset of the Navajo.... Bi Nai, the Navajo is dying dying dying!" A crescent moon hung above the lofty peak over the valley and a train of white stars ran along the bold rim of the western wall.
Just as he had never talked about men to the sealed wives in the hidden valley, so he could not talk of women to Joe Lake. Nas Ta Bega did not return that day, but, next morning a messenger came calling Lake to the Piute camp.
In half an hour you'll see sago-lilies and Indian paint-brush and vermilion cactus." About the middle of the afternoon the pack-train and its drivers arrived at the hidden Mormon village. Nas Ta Bega had not returned from his scout back along the trail.
Nas Ta Bega led to the top of that wall, only to disclose to his followers another and a higher wall beyond, with a ridged, bare, wild, and scalloped depression between. Here footing began to be precarious for both man and beast. When the ascent of the second wall began it was necessary to zigzag up, slowly and carefully, taking advantage of every level bulge or depression.
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