nte Fee. Then I hunted up Delmar. He was
glad to see me, but he looks old. He had a hell of a time
after I left. It wasn't the way the papers had it--but he won
out all right. He sold his sheep and quit. He said he got
tired of shooting men. I stayed with him--he's got a nice
family--two girls--and then I struck out into the Pueblo
country. These little brown chaps interest me but they're a
different breed o' cats from the Ogallalahs. Everybody talks
about the Snake Dance at Moki, so I'm angling out that
way. I'm going to do a little cow punchin' for a man in
Apache County and go on to the Dance. I'm going through the
Navajoe reservation. I stand in with them. They've heard of
me some way--through the Utes I reckon."

The accounts of the Snake Dance contained mention of "Black Mose," who
kept a band of toughs from interfering with the dance. His wonderful
marksmanship was spoken of. He did not write till he reached Flagstaff.
His letter was very brief. "I'm going into the Grand Canon for a few
days, then I go to work on a ranch south of here for the winter. In the
spring I'm going over the range into California."

When they heard of him next he was deputy marshal of a mining town, and
the Denver papers contained long despatches about his work in clearing
the town of desperadoes. After that they lost track of him
altogether--but Cora never gave him up. "He'll round the big circle one
o' these days--and when he does he'll find us all waiting, won't he,
pet?" and she drew little Pink close to her hungry heart.

PART III

CHAPTER XV

THE EAGLE COMPLETES HIS CIRCLE

All days were Sunday in the great mining camp of Wagon Wheel, so far as
legal enactment ran, but on Saturday night, in following ancient habit,
the men came out of their prospect holes on the high, grassy hills, or
threw down the pick in their "overland tunnels," or deep shafts and
rabbitlike burrows, and came to camp to buy provisions, to get their
mail, and to look upon, if not to share, the vice and tumult of the
town.

The streets were filled from curb to curb with thousands of men in
mud-stained coats and stout-laced boots. They stood in the gutters and
in the middle of the street to talk (in subdued voices) of their claims.
There was little noise. The slowly-moving streams of shoppers or
amusement seekers gave out no sudden shouting. A deep murmur filled the
air, but no angry curse was hear