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Updated: May 29, 2025
He will lay aside the prayers to his unseeing God, and will seek his foe." "It is well." "The white man's foe is strong," went on the Mormon; "he has many men, they will fight. If Eschtah sends his braves with his friend there will be war. Many braves will fall. The White Prophet wishes to save them if he can. He will go forth alone to kill his foe.
The White Prophet sees visions of things to come, but his blood is cold. He asks too much of the white man's God. He is a chief; he has an eye like the lightning, an arm strong as the pine, yet he has not struck. Eschtah grieves. He does not wish to shed blood for pleasure. But Eschtah's friend has let too many selfish men cross his range and drink at his springs.
The long dark nights with the thunder of the river and the lonely voices!... they come back to me.... Wolf, Wolf, here's Noddle, the same faithful old Noddle!" August Naab married Mescal and Hare at noon under the shade of the cottonwoods. Eschtah, magnificent in robes of state, stood up with them. The many members of Naab's family and the grave Navajos formed an attentive circle around them.
Some time must have passed during his dreaming, for only three persons were in sight. Naab's broad back was bowed and his head nodded. Across the fire in its ruddy flicker sat Eschtah beside a slight, dark figure. At second glance Hare recognized Mescal. Surprise claimed him, not more for her presence there than for the white band binding her smooth black tresses.
"The sun's getting hot and the snow will melt in the mountains. If the Colorado rises too high we can't cross." They were two days in riding back to the encampment. Eschtah received them in dignified silence, expressive of his regret. When their time of departure arrived he accompanied them to the head of the nearest trail, which started down from Saweep Peak, the highest point of Echo Cliffs.
Eschtah pressed into Naab's service a band of young braves, under the guidance of several warriors who knew every trail of the range, every waterhole, every cranny where even a wolf might hide. They swept the river-end of the plateau, and working westward, scoured the levels, ridges, valleys, climbed to the peaks, and sent their Indian dogs into the thickets and caves.
Safe from the storms of the elements as well as of the world was this Garden of Eschtah. Naab had put Hare to bed on the unroofed porch of a log house, but routed him out early, and when Hare lifted the blankets a shower of cotton-blossoms drifted away like snow.
Hare bowed to each and felt himself searched by burning eyes, which were doubtful, yet not unfriendly. "Shake," finally said Eschtah, offering his hand. "Ugh!" exclaimed Scarbreast, extending a bare silver-braceleted arm. This sign of friendship pleased Naab. He wished to enlist the sympathies of the Navajo chieftains in the young man's behalf.
"The white man needs counsel and help. He has fallen upon evil days." "Eschtah sees war in the eyes of his friend." "War, chief, war! Let the Navajo and his warriors rest and eat. Then we shall speak." A single command from the Navajo broke the waiting files of warriors. Mustangs were turned into the fields, packs were unstrapped from the burros, blankets spread under the cottonwoods.
Eschtah will lie there, but no Indian will know the path to the place of his sleep. Mescal's trail is lost in the sand. No man may find it. Eschtah's words are wisdom. Look!" To search for any living creatures in that borderless domain of colored dune, of shifting cloud of sand, of purple curtain shrouding mesa and dome, appeared the vainest of all human endeavors.
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