ential chat with me in his own
language first. By 'the place of the roaring sound' he means the big
Canyon. How is Jennie, Tom?"

"Chi-i-wa him good."

"That's fine. We'll be moving along now. We are tired and want to
rest and make peace with Chick-a-pan-gi and his people," said Nance.

The Kohot bowed, waved a hand to his followers, who turned, marching
stolidly back toward the village, followed by the chief, then by
Nance and his party.

"This sounds to me as if it were going to be a chow-chow party,"
grinned Stacy.

"For goodness' sake, behave yourself. Don't stir those Indians up.
They are friendly enough, but Indians are sensitive," advised Tad.

"So am I," replied Chunky.

"You may be sorry that you are if you are not careful. I shall be
uneasy all the time for fear you'll put your foot in it," said Tad.

"Just keep your own house in order. Mine will take care of itself.
There's the village."

"Surely enough," answered Tad, gazing inquiringly toward the scattered
shacks or ha-was, as the native houses were called. These consisted
of posts set up with a slight slant toward the center, over which was
laid in several layers the long grass of the canyon. Ordinarily a
bright, hued Indian blanket covered the opening. A tall man could not
stand upright in a Havasupai ha-wa. They were merely hovels, but they
were all sufficient for these people, who lived most of their lives out
in the open.

The street was full of gaunt, fierce-looking dogs that the boys first
mistook for coyotes. The dogs, ill-fed, were surly, making friends
with no one, making threatening movements toward the newcomers in
several instances. One of them seized the leg of Chunky's trousers.

"Call your dog off, Chief Chickadee!" yelled the fat boy.

The Indian merely grunted, whereupon the fat boy laid a hand on the
butt of his revolver. A hand gripped his arm at the same time. The
hand was Tad Butler's.

"You little idiot, take your hand away from there or I'll put a head
on you right here! The dog won't hurt you." Tad was angry.

"No, you've scared him off, now. Of course he won't bite me, but he
would have done so if he hadn't caught sight of you."

"I must be good dog medicine then," replied Tad grimly. "But, never
mind," he added, with a smile, "just try to behave yourself for a
change."

About that time Chief Tom was leading out his squaw by an ear.

"White man see Chi-i-wa," grinned the chief.

Chi-i-wa ga