and the gifts he brought had been good
gifts.

Don Ruy with the secretary, let who might judge of the new camp, while
he wandered in some surprise past the door ways decked with feast day
garlands--and above certain ones were pendent bits of turquoise as if
for ceremonial marking of some order or some clan, and instead of the
blanket or arras there were long reeds strung, and at the end of each
string a beaten twist of copper twinkling like bells when stirred by
any one entering or leaving the dwelling.

The dwelling of the dove cotes had a tiny inside verandah, and one of
the curious robes woven of twisted rabbit skins was laid over a beam.
Great meal jars stood along the wall, and beside them were four
melons, four full grained heads of the bearded wheat, also four
peaches and four pears. They were arranged on a great tray of woven
reeds, and placed without the doorway to the right. The careful
arrangement gave all significance of an offering of the first fruits
on an alter. All the other homes had feasting and laughter and the
sound of gaity and much life; at every other door many smiling faces
of old women and children met them, and the rolls of feast bread were
offered, or bowls of cooked corn. But here all was silence, only the
doves fluttering above gave life to the place. The reeds at the
entrance hung straight and still. This entrance faced the south, but
there was another towards the east and the river. The mysterious
island of stone called the Mesa of the Hearts, loomed dark across the
water and a beaten path led from that east door to the water's edge.
Don Ruy could see from the bank that a canoe was there made from a log
hollowed by careful burnings.

The silent corner where the doves fluttered, held his attention and he
returned to it. Chico it was who stepped close to the rabbit skin
robe, and saw beside the melons, the ears of wheat, and the yet green,
unripe fruit of the pears and the peaches.

The dried peaches in the jar shown them by the old Te-hua man had not
given either of them a second thought, but the two fruits grown from
trees, and the bearded wheat of the Mediterranean arranged in the
basket with the care given a sacred offering, was a different matter.
Don Ruy noted the staring eyes and parted lips of the boy, and
silently stepped nearer at a gesture.

Then they stared in each others eyes as men who look on death
unexpected, or witchcraft--or some of the experiences of this life for