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There was a convulsive struggle, a hard flinging of arms, a straining wrestle, and then Willetts was in a dreadful position. Shefford held him in iron grasp. "You damned, white-livered hypocrite I'm liable to kill you!" cried Shefford. "I watched you and Glen Naspa that day up on the mountain. I saw you embrace her. I saw that she loved you. Tell THAT, you liar! That'll be enough."
"I insinuate nothing. I merely state what led to my acting as I did." "Principles of religion, sir?" "No. A man's principles." Withers interposed in his blunt way, "Bishop, did you ever see Glen Naspa?" "No." "She's the prettiest Navajo in the country. Willetts was after her, that's all." "My dear man, I can't believe that of a Christian missionary. We've known Willetts for years.
She was shapely and walked with free, graceful step, reminding him of the Indian girl, Glen Naspa. This one wore a hood shaped like a huge sunbonnet and it concealed her face. She carried a bucket. When she reached the spring and went down the few stone steps Shefford saw that she did not have on shoes. As she braced herself to lift the bucket her bare foot clung to the mossy stone.
He spoke the word reluctantly, as if the white man's language did not please him, but the clearness and correct pronunciation surprised Shefford. "What name what call her?" he went on. "Glen Naspa." "What your name?" inquired Shefford, indicating the Indian. "Nas Ta Bega," answered the Indian. "Navajo?" The Indian bowed with what seemed pride and stately dignity. "My name John Shefford.
Shefford spent the morning high on the slope, learning more with every hour in the silence and loneliness, that he was stronger of soul than he had dared to hope, and that the added pain which had come to him could be borne. Upon his return toward camp, in the cedar grove, he caught sight of Glen Naspa with a white man. They did not see him.
In the old grandfather's agony, in the wild chant of the stricken grandmother, in the brother's stern and terrible calmness Shefford felt more than the death of a loved one. The shadow of ruin, of doom, of death hovered over the girl and her family and her tribe and her race. There was no consolation to offer these relatives of Glen Naspa.
"So that's your game. Well, Glen Naspa came to my school of her own accord and she will say so." "Why will she? Because you blinded the simple Indian girl.... Willetts, I'll waste little more time on you." And swift and light as a panther Shefford leaped upon the man and, fastening powerful hands round the thick neck, bore him to his knees and bent back his head over the rail.
Then the Navajo stood motionless, with his hands crossed over his breast. Shefford drew near and waited. "Bi Nai," said the Navajo, "Nas Ta Bega said his sister would come home some day.... Glen Naspa is in the hogan of her grandfather."
That explains Willetts's enmity. He was after the girl." "What's more, gentlemen, he GOT her," added Shefford. "Glen Naspa has not been home for six months. I saw her at Blue Canyon.... I would like to face this Willetts before you all." "Easy enough," replied Withers, with a grim chuckle. "He's just outside."
Joe Lake came to Shefford and said, "Withers told me you had a mix-up with a missionary at Red Lake." "Yes, I regret to say," replied Shefford. "About Glen Naspa?" "Yes, Nas Ta Bega's sister." "Withers just mentioned it. Who was the missionary?" "Willetts, so Presbrey, the trader, said." "What'd he look like?"
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