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Dropped the loaf of bread, too." Soames wanted to be sick. Fran was possibly fourteen years old and desperate because his whole civilization depended on him to save them from the destruction falling out of the sky. He was a fugitive on a strange world. Then Soames' mouth went dry as he realized. Fran had been shot at in Bluevale, which was near the Navajo Dam.
Over the soft ridges and valleys crept a wondrous transfiguration. It was as if every blade of grass, every leaf of sage, every twig of cedar, the flowers, the trees, the rocks came to life at sight of the sun. The red disk rose, and a golden fire burned over the glowing face of that lonely waste. The Navajo, dark, stately, inscrutable, faced the sun his god. This was his Great Spirit.
Determination of the time of the council has come to the Arizona Historian's office, within a few days of the closing of the manuscript of this work, the data supplied from the office of the Church Historian at Salt Lake City. In it is a copy of a final report, dated November 5, 1870, and signed by Frank F. Bennett, Captain United States Army, agent for the Navajo Indians at Fort Defiance.
She smiled with unaffected gladness, and he noticed that her fresh morning colour was like that of the little wild roses he had lately brushed the dew from along the creek. "We shall be glad to have you." "It's right kind of you; I'm proud to hear you say so." He had taken off the saddle with its gay coloured Navajo blanket, and the bridle of plaited rawhide with its conchos and its silver bit.
Then a stolid Indian stalked by. "Why, that is a real Indian!" exclaimed the girl. "A Navajo," said Mrs. Adams. "They come in quite often." "Really? And oh, I forgot the young man who rescued us told us that he was your son." "Lorry! Rescued you?" "Yes." And the girl told Mrs. Adams about the accident and the tramp. "I'm thankful that he didn't get killed," was Mrs.
Go up to the top of one of the red sand knobs you see these Navajo riders everywhere, coming out of their hogan houses among the juniper groves, crossing the yellow plain, scouring down the dry arroyo beds, infinitesimal specks of color moving at swift pace across these seas of sand.
Billy, regardless of consequences, had pinned his aunt's newest grey blanket around him and was viewing, with satisfied admiration, its long length trailing on the-grass behind him; Lina had her mother's treasured Navajo blanket draped around her graceful little figure; Frances, after pulling the covers off of several beds and finding nothing to suit her fanciful taste, had snatched a gorgeous silk afghan from the leather couch in the library.
Or if the Navajo still raided the Moki, you could understand them toiling like beasts of burden carrying water up to these hilltops; but the day of raid and foray is forever past. It was on our way back over this trail that we learned one good reason why the dwellers of this land must keep to the high rock crests.
We ran forward to capture the young Navajo, but he quickly disappeared behind a large rock and was seen no more. Returning to the main brook with Chiquita, we tied the horses to the willows and began a search for Vic. I called her by all the pet names to which she was accustomed, but received no response.
It also makes special recommendations in behalf of the Pueblo, the Navajo, the Five Civilized Tribes of Oklahoma, and the New York Indians, looking toward their present protection and future citizenship.
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