re, 'brother.' Kish Taka was
an implacable hater; he would follow Jim Courtot until one of them was
dead. Kish Taka was a loyal friend, for the Hopi who will bare his
heart to a man will bare his breast for him.

Further questions Howard did not ask, feeling that he had penetrated
already further into the man's own personal matters than he should have
done. He had heard tales such as all men hear when they come into the
influence of the desert south-west, wild tales like those he had
recounted about Superstition Pool to Helen and her father, wilder tales
about a people who dwelt on in the more northern and more bleak parts
of the desert. Lies, for the most part, he judged them, such lies as
men tell of an unknown country and other men repeat and embroider.
There were men whom he knew who maintained stoutly that the old Seven
Cities of Cibola were no dead myth but a living reality; that there
were a Hidden People; that they had strange customs and worshipped
strange gods and bowed the knee in particular to a young and white
goddess, named Yohoya; that they hunted with monster dogs, that they
had hidden cities scooped out centuries ago in mountain cliffs and that
they were incredibly rich in gold and turquoises. Lies, perhaps. And
yet a lie may be based upon truth. Here was a high-type Indian who
called himself Kish Taka, the Hawk Man; he hunted with such a dog; he
camped on the trail of a _bahana_ who had betrayed and robbed his
people. That _bahana_ was Jim Courtot. What had taken Jim Courtot
into that country? And now that he was back, Jim Courtot was flush.
And, when Sandy Weaver had mentioned certain tracks to him, he had
stared over his shoulder and turned white! Truly, there were many
questions to ask; but Howard refrained from asking them.

'This Indian has played a white man's part to me,' he told himself.
'And his business is his own and not mine.'

'Come,' said Kish Taka abruptly out of the silence into which they had
sunk. 'Cool now, we go.'

They had but little water remaining in Howard's canteen, and Kish Taka
scorned carrying water for himself; but he had outlined the trail they
would take and appeared confident that they would not suffer from lack
of water. They struck out toward the south-east, the Indian swinging
along ahead, his body stooped a little forward, his thin arms hanging
loose at his sides. Several times Howard stopped to drink; the Indian
drank once only before their arrival