l recognised one man whom Masters had pointed out
one day at Tolchaco as a notorious gambler and horse trader, known all
over the painted desert as "Iadaka" the gambler; there were traders from
the different government posts; a few teachers from the government
schools; a bunch of cowboys from Flagstaff; half a dozen Apaches who had
come up to Oraibi from an encampment near the Bottomless Pits; a dozen
tourists from a half dozen different cities in the east attracted from
tourist curiosity; three interpreters, one of whom happened to be in
government employ and had been caught at Oraibi and detained there by an
accident to his team on the way to Shungapavi. Masters knew him and
asked him to come in and help at the service.

Besides this miscellaneous and polyglot audience inside the room, Helen
soon became aware of nearly as many more spectators and listeners
outside the building crowded about the open windows. The night was warm
and still. The chapel had three windows on each side, and two at the
rear behind the platform, and at each opening dark faces of various
nationalities grouped and peered in with stoical or wondering interest.
After the service had begun Helen suddenly became aware of the presence
of Van Shaw and his two friends. They had evidently finished their
supper and camp work and come back up the rock to be present at the
chapel service but had been too late to get inside. Helen felt Van
Shaw's gaze directed constantly at herself. He had secured a position
close up to the second window from the platform. Helen again had that
curious blending of anger and exultation, of shame and gratified vanity
as if there were forces at work in her at war with one another tempting
and antagonistic, attractive and repellant. But after one look had been
exchanged between her and Van Shaw she changed her position on the cot
so that she was partly hidden from him by a lamp which stood on one
corner of the little parlour organ of the platform.

Do you know of any greater heroes than the heroes of the cross? These
are the undaunted, unterrified, passion-filled souls of the earth.
Masters personified the very spirit of aggressive, human, loving
Christianity. That strange room full of humanity would have appalled
anyone but a real soul-hungry man. What could anyone do with it? Century
old vices and superstitions, brutal contempt for anything but coarse
pleasures, stolid indifference to God, measureless egotism and age-long
sel