can get it," he said, carelessly. "How many
million miles do we go to-day, Mr. Krane?"

"Yonder is your terminal," Rex replied, pointing to a little settlement
of mud huts huddling together along the trail. "They call that little
metropolis Agua Fria--'pure water'--because there ain't no water there.
It's the last place to look for anybody. That's why we look there. You
will go in like gentlemen, though--and don't be surprised nor make any
great noise over anything you see there. If a riot starts I'll do the
startin'."

Carelessly as this was said, we understood the command behind it.

Near the village, I happened to glance back over the way we had come,
and there, striding in, soft-footed as a cat behind us, was that young
Indian. I turned again just as we reached the first straggling houses at
the outskirts of the settlement, but he had disappeared.

It was a strange little village, this Agua Fria. Its squat dwellings,
with impenetrable adobe walls, had sat out there on the sandy edge of
the dry Santa Fe River through many and many a lagging decade; a single
trail hardly more than a cart-width across ran through it. A church,
mud-walled and ancient, rose above the low houses, but of order or
uniformity of outline there was none. Hands long gone to dust had shaped
those crude dwellings on this sunny plain where only man decays, though
what he builds endures.

Nobody was in sight and there was something awesome in the very silence
everywhere. Rex lounged carelessly along, as one who had no particular
aim in view and was likely to turn back at any moment. But Beverly and I
stared hard in every direction.

At the end of the village two tiny mud huts, separated from each other
by a mere crack of space, encroached on this narrow way even a trifle
more than the neighboring huts. As we were passing these a soft Hopi
voice called:

"Beverly! Beverly!" And Little Blue Flower, peeping shyly out from the
narrow opening, lifted a warning hand.

"The church! The church!" she repeated, softly, then darted out of
sight, as if the brown wall were but thick brown vapor into which she
melted.

"Why, it's our own little girl!" Beverly exclaimed, with a smile, just
as Little Blue Flower turned away, but I am sure she caught his words
and saw his smile.

We would have called to her, but Rex Krane evidently did not hear her,
for he neither halted nor turned his head. So, remembering our command
to be quiet, we passed on.

"I