y in, and was
rubbing through the skin into the flesh. "That's good," he said, aloud.
The pebble was eating the numbness away, and Cumnor drove it hard
against the raw spot, and relished the tonic of its burning friction.
The Apaches had drawn into a circle. Standing at some interval apart,
they entirely surrounded the arena. Shrewd, half convinced, and yet with
awe, they watched the dancers, who clashed their cans slowly now in
rhythm to Jones's hoarse, parched singing. He was quite master of
himself, and led the jig round the still blazing wreck of the wagon, and
circled in figures of eight between the corpses of the Mexicans,
clashing the milk-cans above each one. Then, knowing his strength was
coming to an end, he approached an Indian whose splendid fillet and
trappings denoted him of consequence; and Jones was near shouting with
relief when the Indian shrank backward. Suddenly he saw Cumnor let his
can drop, and without stopping to see why, he caught it up, and, slowly
rattling both, approached each Indian in turn with tortuous steps. The
circle that had never uttered a sound till now receded, chanting almost
in a whisper some exorcising song which the man with the fillet had
begun. They gathered round him, retreating always, and the strain, with
its rapid muttered words, rose and fell softly among them. Jones had
supposed the boy was overcome by faintness, and looked to see where he
lay. But it was not faintness. Cumnor, with his boots off, came by and
walked after the Indians in a trance. They saw him, and quickened their
pace, often turning to be sure he was not overtaking them. He called to
them unintelligibly, stumbling up the sharp hill, and pointing to the
boots. Finally he sat down. They continued ascending the mountain,
herding close round the man with the feathers, until the rocks and the
filmy tangles screened them from sight; and like a wind that hums
uncertainly in grass, their chanting died away.

The sun was half behind the western range when Jones next moved. He
called, and, getting no answer, he crawled painfully to where the boy
lay on the hill. Cumnor was sleeping heavily; his head was hot, and he
moaned. So Jones crawled down, and fetched blankets and the canteen of
water. He spread the blankets over the boy, wet a handkerchief and laid
it on his forehead; then he lay down himself.

The earth was again magically smitten to crystal. Again the sharp cactus
and the sand turned beautiful, and viole