ight," continued Emmett,
making motions with his arm, as if he were whirling a lasso.

"No big--heap small buffalo," said the Indian, holding his hand level
with his knee, and smiling broadly.

Jones, erect, rugged, brawny, stood in the full light of the campfire.
He had a dark, bronzed, inscrutable face; a stern mouth and square jaw,
keen eyes, half-closed from years of searching the wide plains; and
deep furrows wrinkling his cheeks. A strange stillness enfolded his
feature the tranquility earned from a long life of adventure.

He held up both muscular hands to the Navajo, and spread out his
fingers.

"Rope buffalo--heap big buffalo--heap many--one sun."

The Indian straightened up, but kept his friendly smile.

"Me big chief," went on Jones, "me go far north--Land of Little
Sticks--Naza! Naza! rope musk-ox; rope White Manitou of Great Slave
Naza! Naza!"

"Naza!" replied the Navajo, pointing to the North Star; "no--no."

"Yes me big paleface--me come long way toward setting sun--go cross Big
Water--go Buckskin--Siwash--chase cougar."

The cougar, or mountain lion, is a Navajo god and the Navajos hold him
in as much fear and reverence as do the Great Slave Indians the musk-ox.

"No kill cougar," continued Jones, as the Indian's bold features
hardened. "Run cougar horseback--run long way--dogs chase cougar long
time--chase cougar up tree! Me big chief--me climb tree--climb high
up--lasso cougar--rope cougar--tie cougar all tight."

The Navajo's solemn face relaxed

"White man heap fun. No."

"Yes," cried Jones, extending his great arms. "Me strong; me rope
cougar--me tie cougar; ride off wigwam, keep cougar alive."

"No," replied the savage vehemently.

"Yes," protested Jones, nodding earnestly.

"No," answered the Navajo, louder, raising his dark head.

"Yes!" shouted Jones.

"BIG LIE!" the Indian thundered.

Jones joined good-naturedly in the laugh at his expense. The Indian had
crudely voiced a skepticism I had heard more delicately hinted in New
York, and singularly enough, which had strengthened on our way West, as
we met ranchers, prospectors and cowboys. But those few men I had
fortunately met, who really knew Jones, more than overbalanced the
doubt and ridicule cast upon him. I recalled a scarred old veteran of
the plains, who had talked to me in true Western bluntness:

"Say, young feller, I heerd yer couldn't git acrost the Canyon fer the
deep snow on the north rim. Wal, ye're lucky. N