es to the great building, and, surrounding it, again
halt. The old men are still upon the roof, standing along the parapet.
They are frightened, and tremble like children.

"Do not fear; we are friends!" cried Seguin, speaking in a strange
language, and making signs to them.

His voice is not heard amidst the shrieks and shouting that still
continue.

The words are repeated, and the sign given in a more emphatic manner.

The old men crowd along the edge of the parapet. There is one among
them who differs from the rest. His snow-white hair reaches below his
waist. There are bright ornaments hanging from, his ears and over his
breast. He is attired in white robes. He appears to be a chief; for
the rest obey him. He makes a signal with his hands, and the screaming
subsides. He stands forward on the parapet, as if to speak to us.

"Amigos, amigos!" (friends!) cries he, speaking in Spanish.

"Yes, yes; we are friends," replies Seguin, in the same language. "Do
not fear us! We came not to harm you."

"Why harm us? We are at peace with the white pueblos to the east. We
are the children of Montezuma; we are Navajoes. What want you with us?"

"We come for our relatives, your white captives. They are our wives and
daughters."

"White captives! You mistake us. We have no captives. Those you seek
are among the nations of the Apache, away far to the south."

"No; they are with you," replies Seguin. "I have certain information
that they are here. Delay us not, then! We have come a far journey for
them, and will not go without them."

The old man turns to his companions. They converse in a low voice, and
exchange signs. Again he faces round to Seguin.

"Believe me, senor chief," says he, speaking with emphasis, "you have
been wrongly informed. We have no white captives."

"Pish! 'Ee dod-rotted ole liar!" cries Rube, pushing out of the crowd,
and raising his cat-skin cap as he speaks. "'Ee know this child, do
'ee?"

The skinless head is discovered to the gaze of the Indians. A murmur,
indicative of alarm, is heard among them. The white-haired chief seems
disconcerted. He knows the history of that scalp!

A murmur, too, runs through the ranks of the hunters. They had seen
white faces as they rode up. The lie exasperates them, and the ominous
click of rifles being cocked is heard on all sides.

"You have spoken falsely, old man," cries Seguin. "We know you have
white captives. Bring the