nothing could be seen in the
obscurity. He felt puzzled. Was this last signal the voice of another
enemy who had hitherto remained silent, or was it Nacaytzusle who had
changed his position? At all events it was safer to rise and go directly
toward the spot, rather than approach it in a creeping posture. He
walked deliberately onward, at the same time calling out in a low
tone,--

"Nacaytzusle!"

Nothing moved.

He advanced a few steps and repeated,--

"Nacaytzusle! Hast thou seen anything?"

"No," said a hollow voice near by, and a human form arose as if from
beneath the surface. The man stepped up to Tyope; and to the latter's
unpeakable relief, he looked stouter and shorter than Nacaytzusle. The
Indian was unknown to him, and Tyope said eagerly,--

"The badger must be hiding near where the fire is. We should cut off his
trail to the north. Nacaytzusle went too far east; there"--he pointed
toward the northeast--"is where he ought to stand."

Tyope spoke the Navajo language fluently.

"Thou art right," said the other; "go thither, and we will be closer
together."

Tyope felt loath to follow this advice, for it would have brought him
uncomfortably near his most dangerous foe; yet, under the circumstances
and to avoid all suspicion he accepted the suggestion, and was about to
turn in the direction indicated when the signals sounded again and
simultaneously from every quarter. The strange Indian held him back,
asking,--

"How is this? We are five, and four have shouted now. Who art thou, and
where dost thou come from?"

"I came from above," Tyope replied, with affected composure.

They stood so close together that the Navajo could notice some details
of Tyope's accoutrements. Grasping the cap of buffalo hide which dangled
from the belt of the Queres, he inquired,--

"What dost thou carry here?"

All was lost, for the Navajos were well acquainted with this garment,
peculiar to the war dress of the Pueblos. Tyope saw that only the most
reckless act could save him. So he dropped all his arrows, which until
now he had carried in his right hand, and thrust his club like a
slung-shot into the other's face. With a yell of pain and surprise the
Navajo tumbled backward into a bush, while Tyope darted forward in the
direction of the Rito. Behind him sounded the hoarse cries of the
wounded man, loud yells answering. They came from four sides; all the
pursuers were running at full speed to the assistance of their