doubt
clamor also for sanctification.

But in the early dusk of the morning the boy and his mother were on
the trail for the home valley of the river P[=o]-s[=o]n-ge of which he
had dreamed. With them were people of Kah-po, and people of Provi-whah
and the Apache woman and her child Yahn. Yahn made some one carry her
most of the hard trails, and talked much, and asked many things of the
little growing trees in the old urn of ancient Tusayan.

And when they came in sight of the sacred mesa, Tuyo, a runner was
sent ahead to tell the governor and the head men of the strange new
people of the clanking iron at Ua-lano, and the wonderful and belated
home-coming of the lost woman of many years' mystery.

Because of this they were met at the edge of the mesa by many, and the
Woman of the Twilight knelt and touched the feet of the governor and
asked that the gate of the valley be open to her and to her son. And
Tahn-te knelt also and offered the growing things.

"These are sacred things of which the Ruler must speak," said the
governor. "I am but for one short summer and winter, but the Ruler is
for always. Of the new things to bear fruit we still speak in
council,--also of the new people trading a new white god for blue
stones, and painted robes."

But Tahn-te knew that a welcome was theirs, for the governor would not
have come outside the walls except it had been so, and the old man
watched keenly the delight of the boy as the river of that land came
clear before him spread at the foot of the wide table land, and the
great plain below. Trees grew there, and between them the running
water shone in the sun. The Black Mesa Tuyo, Mesa of the Hearts,
arose from the water edge,--a great dark monument of mystic rites,
and wondrous records of the time when it had been a breathing place
for the Powers in the heart of the earth. The rocks were burned so red
it always seemed that the fire was still under them. And south was the
God-Maid mesa:--its outline as the face of a maid upturned to the
sky.

Beyond the river stretched the yellow corn fields--the higher land
like a rugged red skeleton from which the soil had been washed,--and
beyond that was the great uplift of the pine-clad mountains where the
springs never failed, and the deer were many.

Wild fowl fluttered and dove in the waters of the river, grey pigeons
flew in little groups from the trail; as they walked, two men in
canoes caught fish where a little stream joined t