ich seemed too tiny for human habitation, he said: "Aneshodi
hogan. Him friend me. Lady stay. Me come back good horse. Pony no go
more. He bad!"

Dismay filled the heart of the lady. She gathered that her guide wished
to leave her by the way while he went on for another horse, and maybe
he would return and maybe not. Meantime, what kind of a place was he
leaving her in? Would there be a woman there? Even if she were an Indian
woman that would not be so bad. "Aneshodi" sounded as if it might be a
woman's name.

"Is this Aneshodi a woman?" she questioned.

The Indian shook his head and grunted. "Na, na. Aneshodi, Aneshodi. Him
friend me. Him good friend. No woman!" (In scorn.)

"Is there no woman in the house?" she asked anxiously.

"Na! Him heap good man. Good hogan. Lady stay. Rest."

Suddenly her pony stumbled and nearly fell. She saw that she could not
depend on him for long now.

"Couldn't I walk with you?" she asked, her eyes pleading. "I would
rather walk than stay. Is it far?"

The Indian shook his head vigorously.

"Lady no walk. Many suns lady walk. Great mile. Lady stay. Me ride fast.
Back sundown," and he pointed to the sun which was even now beginning
its downward course.

Hazel saw there was nothing for it but to do as the Indian said, and
indeed his words seemed reasonable, but she was very much frightened.
What kind of a place was this in which she was to stay? As they neared
it there appeared to be nothing but a little weather-beaten shanty, with
a curiously familiar look, as if she had passed that way before. A few
chickens were picking about the yard, and a vine grew over the door, but
there was no sign of human being about and the desert stretched wide and
barren on every side. Her old fear of its vastness returned, and she
began to have a fellow feeling with Amelia Ellen. She saw now that she
ought to have gone with Amelia Ellen back to civilization and found
somebody who would have come with her on her errand. But then the letter
would have been longer delayed!

The thought of the letter kept up her courage, and she descended
dubiously from her pony's back, and followed the Indian to the door of
the shanty. The vine growing luxuriantly over window and casement and
door frame reassured her somewhat, she could not tell just why. Perhaps
somebody with a sense of beauty lived in the ugly little building, and a
man with a sense of beauty could not be wholly bad. But how was she to
stay alone