ully draped in her bobinet.
He forgot his own lumps and bumps, and laughed. "So doth the white man's
civilization creep upon and subdue the Amerind, destroying his robust
contempt for the elements and making of him a Sybarite."

Eugene appeared, grinning ruefully. "Heap dam' moskeets. Drink my blood
all night."

"I reckon you got gran'ma's share," said Kelley.

Pogosa met Wetherell's glance with an exultant smile and pointed at the
net as if to say: "See, I am safe. The angry brutes cannot touch me."

"The old girl is on her taps this morning. She deserves a reward. Wait a
jiffy. There"--and Kelley uncorked a flask and poured a wee drop of an
amber-colored liquid into the cup of coffee which Wetherell was about to
take to her--"say nothing and see what happens."

She ate a rousing breakfast and was especially pleased with the coffee.
Kelley repeated the dose, and she, much invigorated, ordered Eugene to
bring her pony to her. This tickled Kelley mightily.

"You see how it is! She's already the millionairess. Who ever heard of
an Injun getting up a horse for an old squaw? Look at Eugene!"

Eugene was indeed in open rebellion, and Wetherell, not caring to have
trouble with him, went down and brought up the pony himself. He also
gave the old woman his slicker and insisted on her wearing it, whereat
Eugene wondered again.

The rain was beginning as they took their way over the meadow, and
Wetherell was near to being bogged the first crack out of the box. "Do
we go up that cliff?" he asked.

Pogosa waved her forefinger back and forth as though tracing the
doublings of the trail.

Kelley scanned the wall narrowly. "I don't quite see it," he remarked,
openly, "but I reckon I can find it," and he spurred his horse to the
front.

"No! No!" screamed Pogosa in a sudden fury, her voice shrill and nasal.
Kelley stopped, and she motioned Wetherell to his place in the lead.

With a comical look in his eyes the trailer fell back. "'Pears like I
ain't good enough to precede her Majesty. Go ahead, Andy."

Wetherell, in much doubt of his ability to scale that cliff, started
forth. The old trail could be seen dimly, and also the recent tracks of
three horses. They were not precisely fresh, but they gave some
uneasiness.

"Who made 'em, Eugene, and when?" he asked.

"One man riding--white man," announced Eugene. "Two pack-horse--very
light pack--made--mebbe so--three days ago."

"The forest-ranger from the other side, po