rprise her--and delight myself--by
having breakfast with her!"

However, I could not get away till morning, and with an evening to wear
away I accepted the Agent's invitation to witness a native dance which
had been announced to him by one of the young Navajo policemen. I had
never seen a Navajo dance, and gladly accepted the opportunity to do so.

It was a clear, crisp November evening as we started out, the clerk, his
sister, one of the teachers and myself riding in a two-seated open
wagon, drawn by a pair of spirited horses. The native village was some
ten miles to the north, and all the way up hill, so that before we came
in sight of it darkness had fallen, and in the light of a bonfire the
dancers were assembling.

Of the village, if there was a village, I could see little, but a tall
old man (the town crier) was chanting an invitation or command of some
sort, and dark forms were moving to and fro among the shadows of the
pinon trees. How remote it all was from the white man's world, how
self-sufficing and peaceful--how idyllic!

The master of ceremonies met us and gave us seats, and for three hours
we sat in the glow of the fire, watching the youthful, tireless dancers
circle and leap in monotonous yet graceful evolutions. Here was love and
courtship, and jealousy and faithful friendship, just as among the white
dancers of Neshonoc. Roguish black eyes gleamed in the light of the
fire, small feet beat the earth in joyous rhythm, and the calm faces of
the old men lent dignity and a kind of religious significance to the
scene. They were dreaming of the past, when no white man had entered
their world.

The young people were almost equally indifferent to us, and as the night
deepened we who were white merged more and more indistinguishably with
the crowd of dusky onlookers. It was easy to imagine ourselves back in
the sixteenth century, looking upon this scene from the wondering
viewpoint of the Spanish explorers. Whence came these people, these
dances, these ceremonials?

At last the time came for us to set forth upon our long ride back to the
Agency, and so, silently, we rose and slipped away into the darkness,
leaving the dancers to end their immemorial festival without the aliens'
presence. They had no need of us, no care for us. At a little distance I
turned and looked back. The songs, interrupted by shrill, wolfish
howlings and owl-like hootings, rang through the night with singular
savage charm, a chant o