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0P THE 
 UNIVEBSITY 
 r> OF . 
 
CHUNDA 
 
 A STORY OF THE NAVAJOS 
 
 BY 
 
 HORATIO OLIVER LADD 
 
 NEW YORK: EATON & MAINS 
 CINCINNATI : JENNINGS & GRAHAM 
 
Copyright, 1906, by 
 EATON & MAINS. 
 

 TO MY 
 
 BELOVED AND DEVOTED WIFE 
 
 HARRIETT VAUGHAN ABBOTT LADD 
 
 m6679^5 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. Off the Trail 3 
 
 II. Hot-si 9 
 
 III. The Races 17 
 
 IV. Hut-tah 23 
 
 V. The Shamans' Dance 34 
 
 VI. Chunda 43 
 
 VII. Tswane 51 
 
 VIII. Hedipa 60 
 
 IX. The Ancient Navajo 69 
 
 X. A Ride to Freedom 80 
 
 XI. Returned and Released 87 
 
 XII. In the House of Hedipa 98 
 
 XIII. A Woman's Rage 103 
 
 XIV. Transformed 115 
 
 XV. Inspirations irg 
 
 XVI. Eulalia Lawton 129 
 
 XVII. Revelations 139 
 
 XVIII. On the Heights 151 
 
 XIX. A Woman's Pleading 161 
 
 XX. A Godspeed 173 
 
 XXI. A Broken Pledge 180 
 
 XXII. Nizenni 197 
 
 XXIII. The Daughter of Hedipa 210 
 
 XXIV. Shadows in a Clear Sky 214 
 
 XXV. The Capture 222 
 
 XXVI. In the Hidden Stronghold 231 
 
 XXVII. Through the Fires into Life 243 
 
 V 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Chunda ...... Frontispiece 
 
 Facing 
 Page 
 
 Hut-tah 28 
 
 Hot-si ....-.- 36 
 
 Hedipa ....-.-61 
 
 The Ancient Navajo - - - - - 71 
 
 The Cave ....--- 108 
 Entrance to the Gorge - - - - - 235 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 OFF THE TRAIL 
 
 "These horses are dragging us to certain death 
 on the bottom of that black caiion," shouted the 
 guide, with a terrible oath. 
 
 In the gloom of a mesa park covered with lofty- 
 pines two men were struggling with their horses, 
 which were trying to free themselves from a rude 
 buckboard wagon. The Indian trail across this 
 mountain plateau, to which they ascended from the 
 Fort Defiance agency early in the morning, had led 
 them astray. In the afternoon they had lost the new 
 wagon road to Chin-a-li, which the guide had con- 
 fidently chosen, but had turned into this well-worn 
 trail for ponies, which made but an uncertain and 
 difficult track for wheels. 
 
 The two horses, well jaded and cross from hard 
 usage, were showing a dangerous temper, but the 
 desperate driver swore that they should bring his 
 companion and himself to their destination in the 
 Canon de Chelly^ by noon of the next day. 
 
 The darkness was deepened by the shadows 
 which the moon cast through the dense treetops, 
 yet wherever the trail would permit the horses 
 leaped forward on an uneven gallop to avoid the 
 deep ruts. Suddenly they stopped, and the driver, 
 
 'Pronounced Canyon de Shay. 
 
Chunda 
 
 trusting their intelligence, threw down the reins, 
 leaped to the ground, and sprang forward to seize 
 their bits with an exclamation which thoroughly- 
 aroused the traveler by its accents of terror mingled 
 with the profanity to which his ears had become 
 accustomed. 
 
 They were on the brink of a steep gorge, to which 
 the bridle path they had been following descended, 
 winding along the ledge dangerous for the sure 
 steps of Navajo ponies and impassable for wheels. 
 
 The traveler slipped cautiously from the rear of 
 the buckboard as the two horses, now thoroughly 
 frightened, were rearing and plunging in their 
 efforts to wheel from the brink of the precipice. 
 Though heavily laden, the vehicle was at last pulled 
 back over the rough ground strewn with loose 
 stones, and when the horses were quieted, though 
 still trembling at their fright, the guide said : 
 
 "Professor, we must camp here, and let up on 
 this trail, or we shall not reach Chin-a-li alive. We 
 are off the road, and I confess I don't know where 
 we are." 
 
 "Well," said his companion, "you are right now. 
 It has been evident to me that you have been driving 
 wild since three o'clock this afternoon." 
 
 The guide muttered an oath, and turned his horses 
 aside into level and open ground that was less 
 densely covered with pines. 
 
 "You have lost the trail and made it doubtful 
 whether we see the great Yavishe dance tomorrow," 
 continued the Professor. "However, we have just 
 
 4 
 
Off the Trail 
 
 saved our necks, and we will shake off the troubles 
 of today and get some rest." 
 
 "There is a big pine," answered the guide, "and 
 plenty of wood in that rotten trunk near it," point- 
 ing to a huge tree that must have fallen many years 
 before in the path of a storm. 
 
 "We will camp here," said the Professor, as they 
 drove up under the dark pine branches, and he 
 pointed out to the open ground where, in the light 
 of the September moon, there seemed to be good 
 grass for the horses. 
 
 The animals were turned loose, and firewood was 
 gathered. Soon by the glare of a blazing fire a bed 
 of fragrant pinon boughs was made, partly pro- 
 tected from the cold wind by the butt of the tree. A 
 little bread and jelly, the remains of the noonday 
 lunch, and a dipper of water gave a slight refresh- 
 ment to the travelers, and then, with backs to the 
 tree and feet toward the fire, they rolled their cigar- 
 ettes and talked far into the night hours over their 
 adventures. 
 
 Soon their conversation drifted to the traditions 
 of the powerful tribe in whose reservation they were 
 lost. They were twenty-five miles away from any 
 white man, in the heart of the Navajo country, 
 where seventeen thousand of the most uncivilized 
 and powerful savages of the Apache race roamed at 
 will, with herds of horses or flocks of sheep, or 
 sojourned for a few weeks beside some fertile spot 
 in the vicinity of a stream to raise their annual crops 
 of maize and beans and melons. 
 
 5 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 Tales of waylaid hunters or prospectors through 
 these wilds at first beguiled the hours. Then the 
 customs of this strange people, with an ancestry and 
 history among these mountainous plateaus extend- 
 ing back more than three hundred years, entertained 
 the missionary teacher, who had come three hun- 
 dred miles into this desolate region to be present at 
 the great meeting of the Navajos. He w-as bearing 
 an important message from the President at Wash- 
 ington, and an offer from the Indian Bureau of new 
 arrangements for the industrial education of their 
 children in his school at San Gabriel. 
 
 A failure to reach the Canon de Chelly next day 
 would bring a disheartening sense of a Providence 
 adverse to cherished plans, but his faith and purpose 
 had often thus been tested, while his motives had 
 been purified. 
 
 But to Redford there was no fear of actual dis- 
 aster as he stretched his vigorous limbs upon the 
 soft bed of pine twigs and looked out upon the 
 grassy plain softly shimmering in the moonlight on 
 that mesa park. There had been many delays to his 
 purpose to redeem the wild Apache peoples from 
 barbarism ; but the courage of a God-given mission 
 had repeatedly swept away the opposition which 
 selfishness and jealousy in the hearts of his country- 
 men had raised before him. and he had made steady 
 progress from year to year in his far-reaching 
 enterprises. The Navajos were a shrewd and crafty 
 people. They had jealously guarded against the 
 incursions of white men into their extended country, 
 
Off the Trail 
 
 for they knew the covetousness of American fron- 
 tiersmen, as well as of the Spanish colonists. They 
 had yielded to the power of the United States 
 government in successive defeats, but they were 
 armed for vigilant repulsion of the settler, the miner, 
 and the missionary who should attempt to gain 
 foothold in their territory, which was five times as 
 large as one of the more important states that a 
 New England pioneer would leave to try his for- 
 tunes in the Southwest. 
 
 Redford had now penetrated these rarely visited 
 Indian wilds in Arizona, and attempted to conquer 
 the inveterate prejudice of tradition and the personal 
 hostility of the crafty medicine men so powerful in 
 their tribes. 
 
 His purpose was to educate their youth. A few 
 had been rescued by other pioneers in these educa- 
 tional efforts, but, returning to their tribes in the 
 garb of American youth, and with notions of a dif- 
 ferent life from their fathers, had been hated as 
 aliens from the traditions and honor of their people. 
 
 Most of them had been discouraged and returned 
 to the ways of their tribe. A few had turned their 
 skill to the acquisition of larger herds of horses, and 
 other pastoral wealth. More had fallen into the 
 vices of gambling, or taken up the crafts of necro- 
 mancy with the increased skill which education had 
 imparted. Still, there was leaven working among 
 the people, and a few of the principal men were dis- 
 posed to try the methods of the white man in agri- 
 culture and in building permanent abodes. 
 
 7 
 
Chunda 
 
 Here and there a log cabin had been erected, but 
 on account of their customs of death and burial, 
 which denied forever the use of the hogan of the 
 deceased if he had occupied it to the last breath, 
 some of these new cabins were filled with terrors, 
 and for this reason many of them had been deserted. 
 
 But it had been found that whoever had built a 
 cabin had first learned the use of tools. One inno- 
 vation had led to another, and the medicine men 
 were alarmed. To recover their hold upon the 
 wavering they had determined on a grander display 
 of barbaric custom and array than usual. They had 
 persuaded a devotee to their craft to summon the 
 medicine men and their tribe far and near to a dance 
 for the relief of a long-standing malady, and the 
 call had gone out throughout the tribe to assemble 
 in great numbers at Chin-a-li. 
 
 Into the midst of this assembly Redford had 
 determined to go alone, braving whatever dangers 
 he might meet. Taking only a guide, he had 
 engaged an interpreter to meet him at the great 
 dance which had been announced. 
 
 The cry of the coyotes around his strange and 
 lonely bed that night reminded him of the evil- 
 minded Navajos that might have followed his trail 
 from the agency. But the inspiring air of a clear 
 September night dispelled doubts and fears, and he 
 closed his eyes to rest with a confidence that his way 
 was guarded by One who would make it clear in the 
 light of another day. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 HOT-SI 
 
 The night had sped on over the undisturbed 
 sleeper toward the earhest flush of a clear September 
 morning, when Redford awoke to find himself 
 apparently alone. Neither guide nor horses were in 
 sight ; but there was a strange feeling, perhaps from 
 a dream, that someone was watching him. Slightly 
 turning his head, he saw not far off a young Navajo 
 about eighteen years old, who, with rifle in hand 
 for instant use, fixed on Redford a cunning but not 
 hostile eye, while he keenly w^atched every move- 
 ment. 
 
 Redford remained quietly stretched upon the 
 ground without betraying any sign of fear or sur- 
 prise. He had learned in his life among the Apaches 
 that courage was the best protection from their 
 violence and commanded the respect of the savage, 
 who is really brave only when he has advantage over 
 his foes or, like brutes, when brought to bay. 
 
 The Navajo w^aited till Redford slowly rose half- 
 way to his feet and looked around for the guide, 
 who w^as still beyond sight. Then he pointed to the 
 open ground with a sign which the Navajo under- 
 stood. Turning to the buckboard, on the pole of 
 which the harnesses were lying, the young hunter 
 looked toward a ridge beyond the plain, and indi- 
 
 9 
 
CHUNDA 
 
 cated the direction which Parker, the guide, had 
 taken in search of the stray horses. 
 
 This friendly act quieted whatever of alarm 
 existed in Redford, who tossed a small bag of 
 tobacco toward the Navajo and waited his next 
 movement. He slowly picked this peace offering 
 from the ground and, with a smile, put it into the 
 fold of his blanket ; then, approaching the smoking 
 embers of the camp fire, sat down by the side of this 
 white stranger. Taking out a strip of dry corn husk 
 from his buckskin wallet, he rolled a cigarette, while 
 Redford, handing to him a live brand, pointed to a 
 distant trail and said : 
 
 "Chin-a-li?" 
 
 As the Navajo rose and with outstretched arm 
 showed the direction of the Canon de Chelly there 
 was a brightening of his eyes from a sense of being 
 trusted by the white man. 
 
 Confident that the young Indian would in some 
 way open a way to the hearts of his tribe, Redford 
 took a more deliberate survey of his new acquaint- 
 ance. The Navajo was tall and slender, with com- 
 pact shoulders, his ruddy skin clear and dark. His 
 broad head, with straight black hair parted in the 
 middle and bound by a red and white figured cotton 
 kerchief, had a face typically Indian, but his large 
 mouth and brilliant eyes combined intelligence with 
 shrewdness and a kind disposition. 
 
 He wore light-colored moccasins, topped with 
 leggins to the knees and fastened there with finely 
 woven red and yellow bands. Above these hung 
 
 10 
 
Hot-si 
 
 loose short trousers of faded yellow cotton; and a 
 coarse Navajo blanket with red, blue and yellow 
 stripes was gathered over the shoulders and fastened 
 in folds around the waist. 
 
 Beneath this could be seen a belt of Winchester 
 cartridges, a leather purse, and the tip of a hunting 
 case hanging at his left side. Two limp coyote 
 skins fastened to his belt hung behind. They had 
 been taken evidently in yesterday's hunting. 
 
 Redford recognized beneath his freshly painted 
 cheeks a face which he had noticed in the agency 
 at Fort Defiance two days before. It was Hot-si, a 
 youth famous already as a hunter and a worthy suc- 
 cessor to his father, Ha-tsi-niniski, a Navajo chief 
 and recognized leader of about three thousand of 
 the tribe frequenting the region around the Canon 
 de Chelly. 
 
 As Redford and the youth smoked in silence their 
 thoughts were far differently measuring the strange 
 causes of their meeting. To Redford it was the 
 friendly aid of Heaven to enable him to reach the 
 great assembly of the Navajos before they were 
 scattered again among their hogans. He hummed 
 a line of a hymn which he had sung in his boyhood, 
 and looked out again upon the open ground for 
 some sign of the stray horses. There was one of 
 them just leaving the edge of the woods half a mile 
 away. Seizing a bridle, he started toward the horse, 
 knowing that his mate would be near him. A faint 
 call came over the ridge as he approached it, and 
 he perceived Parker leading the other horse. 
 
CHUNDA 
 
 As tlic guide approached the fire, upon which had 
 been piled dried pinon knots which w^ere cheerfully 
 blazing in the cliilly autumn air, he discovered the 
 Navajo with evident relief, for he had been unable 
 to locate the camp, so far had they wandered from 
 the trail. He had met the young hunter at Fort 
 Defiance, and was soon in friendly conversation 
 with him in Navajo, of which he knew the common- 
 est phrases and the words needed in trading; but 
 he was not pleased to learn that it would take the 
 greater part of the day to regain the wagon road 
 and reach the mouth of the Chelly Canon. 
 
 A piece of cold bread with jelly and a bit of jerked 
 beef with a cup of water made up their scanty break- 
 fast, but it was shared w4th Hot-si, who had mean- 
 while been giving them some desired information 
 as to the purpose of and principal actors in the 
 great dance that w^as to take place that evening. 
 Having promised to meet them at Chin-a-li, the 
 hunter disappeared over the edge of the gorge upon 
 which, in the darkness of the preceding night, they 
 had driven with such peril. 
 
 The horses had finished their corn, and the buck- 
 board was carefully packed for a still rougher jour- 
 ney than yesterday. To drive across the w'ooded 
 ridge without a trail, to lift the wagon over the 
 bowlders and tree trunks, and to restrain the plung- 
 ing animals, fretted by their uncertain footholds in 
 the loose rocks, occupied two anxious hours ; but 
 the brilliant sunlight illumined the shaded wagon 
 trail, which was at last reached, and made a 
 
 12 
 
HOT-Sl 
 
 strangely interesting journey through the mountain 
 park. 
 
 An hour before noon the buckboard was on the 
 edge of another gorge leading into the Chelly Canon, 
 whose red and yellow sides had been occasionally 
 seen from open points on the trail ten miles away. 
 
 Redford leaped from the wagon to look down the 
 precipice at his feet, and through this cleft of the 
 mesa into the main canon, which his field glass 
 brought near. Massive walls, with bright colors 
 at the top deepening to dark shadows toward the 
 bottom of the gorge, rose to a height of eight hun- 
 dred feet. A shining stream with sandy edges was 
 winding about their base. From its rippling water 
 stretched a vivid spot of green meadow and a culti- 
 vated patch of maize and bush beans into a rincon 
 opposite. A tree of some kind was growing from 
 the bank of the stream, and a jagged, precipitous 
 gorge led from where he stood down to this first 
 glimpse into the region of the most ancient cliff 
 dwellers of Arizona, so often pictured in Redford's 
 dreams. 
 
 It was yet a long drive of five hours by the trail 
 to Chin-a-li. About three o'clock in the afternoon 
 their road led out to the top of the caiion, from 
 which, for more than two miles, the trail made a 
 winding descent, often on bare rock, a thousand feet 
 down the steep sides. At a point five hundred feet 
 from the bottom, where the canon made a turn, the 
 travelers looked down upon a novel scene. 
 
 A sandy plain a mile and a half wide extended 
 13 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 between the low, black, rocky bluffs which consti- 
 tuted the mouth of the Chelly Canon. Beyond these 
 massive portals to the gorge on the right flowed the 
 stream of the Chelly out upon a broader plain, which 
 reached to the Carizo Mountains, rising in five suc- 
 cessive terraces to a height of eight thousand feet, 
 where these mesas became jagged and bare of trees. 
 
 Along this stream for three or four miles could 
 be seen cornfields with stalks still standing, among 
 which were shining heaps of brilliantly colored ears 
 of corn, near to the scattered hogans of the Navajo 
 families who tilled the plain. 
 
 But the nearer sights in the basin of Chin-a-li at 
 once filled the heart of the missionary with strange 
 emotions. Fifteen hundred Navajos were already 
 gathered upon this nearer plain in front of a solitary 
 trading post which stood beneath the black bluff. 
 They were mostly on horseback and riding restlessly 
 from one place to another, or standing in groups 
 near booths of oak branches which had been hastily 
 erected as the central point for their games and 
 dances. 
 
 A group of tw^o or three hundred were intently 
 v^atching a peculiar game where a dozen youths 
 were guiding hoops over an open space with long 
 poles decked with strips of colored deerskin. Others 
 farther away were gathered for a horse race, and 
 at two points the crowd w^ere betting as patrons of 
 the rival ponies. Clearly outlined against the west- 
 ern sky w^ere twenty or thirty Navajos on foot or 
 sitting motionless on their horses, and on the distant 
 
 14 
 
Hot-si 
 
 trails stragglers could be seen urging their ponies 
 toward the level stretch chosen for the race. 
 
 Redford was by nature sensitive to the effect of 
 color and motion, and he gazed with intense enjoy- 
 ment upon the picture in living forms thus suddenly 
 brought to his view. With a fervent desire to per- 
 petuate it on canvas with an artist's skill, he gathered 
 the whole scene into his vision — the restless moving 
 mass in the center, the statuelike figures of horsemen 
 and horses on the bluffs or scattered over the plain, 
 the eddying circles of riders gathering into groups, 
 the lithe-limbed youth at their games, the multitude 
 in gay colors of Navajo blankets, loose cotton 
 trousers flapping in the wind, and the dark back- 
 ground of low-lying bluffs encircling the sandy plain 
 in which these living figures appeared in bright and 
 clear relief under the brilliant sky. The momentary 
 delirium of his senses passed away, and Redford's 
 heart kindled with a new impulse to accomplish his 
 high purpose. 
 
 But to descend into this plain among two thou- 
 sand lawless barbarians and be the only white man, 
 save his guide and the post trader, in the midst 
 of this savage life was, for the moment, appalling. 
 There was no retreat now, for the buckboard had 
 been seen on the cliff, and an unhesitating advance 
 was the only course to take. A half-hour's descent 
 over the smooth ledges was accomplished with more 
 fear of the perils which every step of the horses 
 seemed to increase than of the reception awaiting 
 them below. As the travelers drove up to the trad- 
 
 15 
 
CllUNDA 
 
 ing post hundreds of curious Navajos surrounded 
 the carriage, clamoring for tobacco which the post 
 trader had promised should come with the next 
 arrival from the agency. 
 
 Redford had a good stock of it in his knapsack, 
 and as he leaped to the ground threw a few packages 
 to the crowd as a peace offering, which at once set 
 the Indians in good humor with the stranger. 
 
 i6 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE RACES 
 
 Ha-tsi-niniski, the chief of the Navajos near 
 the Tunicha Mountains, had been informed by the 
 interpreter of Redford's errand from Washington 
 and greeted him with respect as the representative 
 of the government. With a cordial reply Redford 
 took the chief's hand and returned the friendly 
 embrace, a courtesy which the Apache and Pueblo 
 Indians of the Southwest readily extend to those 
 whom they regard with favor. 
 
 Through the interpreter Redford asked permis- 
 sioti to speak to the people, and was promised an 
 opportunity an hour before sundown, when the 
 great dance would begin. The chieftain then invited 
 his guest to view the games and races, and after a 
 simple meal in the post trader's tent, and a refresh- 
 ing of his sunburnt face in the cool waters of the 
 Chelly, Redford prepared himself to mingle with 
 the crowd in their diversions. 
 
 But as he looked out from the trading post upon 
 the restless throngs in their strange garb he con- 
 trasted them with similar gatherings of his own 
 people when met for country fairs and on the race 
 courses or on athletic game grounds. The same love 
 of play and excitement was then displayed by edu- 
 cated or well-dressed working people as by these 
 
 17 
 
CilUNDA 
 
 children of nature, who seemed to have no care nor 
 thought beyond the sport of the hour, the owner- 
 ship of their horses decked with silver-mounted 
 bridles and saddles, and the gayly colored blankets 
 which hung gracefully over their shoulders, or the 
 gaudy trinkets and paints that adorned their arms, 
 necks and faces. 
 
 "All the world is kin," he exclaimed as he glanced 
 around to find some w^ay across the barriers of 
 speech and custom that separated him from this 
 people. "Shall these handsome savages live and 
 die in the midst of our nation, which is proud of its 
 civilization and religion, and yet shall they never 
 know a higher life than this? Amusement is the 
 end of their lives, excitement is their religion, their 
 worship is the basest superstition. Yet how little 
 do they differ in their enjoyments from myriads of 
 my owai countrymen who arrogantly or sneeringly 
 pretend to say that the Indian is less than human, 
 and has neither mental capacity nor moral character 
 worth saving to humankind. These people are 
 ignorant and out of the way," he sighed. "Cannot 
 someone lead them to an intelligent and industrious 
 life, from which, perhaps, in centuries past, their 
 ancestors have fallen? Is their deliverer to come 
 from another race, or is he standing here among his 
 own, whom they know not, some youth upon whom 
 the heavenly Father has set his mark, to reveal in 
 coming years on some Jordan's bank by a baptism 
 of suffering?" 
 
 As Redford slowly walked down the plain, toward 
 
The Races 
 
 the throng where it was thickest and noisiest, he 
 noticed with how httle rudeness of gaze he was 
 regarded by the groups he passed. 
 
 "They have at least a native courtesy," he said, in 
 low tones, "which forbids them to stare. How 
 unlike our American crowds!" 
 
 The rudest neither giggled nor jeered at the 
 stranger so unlike them in dress and appearance. 
 The Apache is cruel and merciless, but in peaceful 
 intercourse with a stranger he is seldom rude in 
 speech or manner. 
 
 The crowd of Navajos was now extending out 
 upon the plain preparing for the race. Quietly 
 passing through the motley group where they were 
 most intent, Redford discovered that two horses 
 with their riders were the subject of their discus- 
 sion. There were no loud or heated words, but 
 everyone — man, woman, or child — was individually 
 a judge of the favorite. They were betting on the 
 result, but there was no delivery of their stakes. 
 The owner of each horse was apparently betting 
 against the crowd, who carried behind their sad- 
 dles, as their pledges, rolls of cotton, fruits and 
 various articles of merchandise. Some had saddle 
 blankets, bridles and tanned skins of the mountain 
 lion hanging from their belts or saddles, which they 
 were offering to wager on the competing horses. 
 These stood side by side on the plain, a gray and a 
 sorrel, with only a tightly girthed saddle blanket 
 on their backs, and riders whose long hair was con- 
 fined by a narrow red band around their brows. 
 
 19 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 As they slowly trotted out to the starting place, 
 half a mile away, another, but smaller, group of 
 mounted Navajos waited to receive them, and the 
 crowd drew out, leaving a long lane of horses' heads 
 intermingled with spectators on foot, close to the 
 line where the race was to be run. 
 
 Redford took a place as near as possible to the 
 finish, straining w-ith the eager Navajos to command 
 a sight of the long vista, brightly bordered with 
 color from the blankets and trousers of the men 
 and the glistening trappings of their horses. 
 
 There were no false starts in this race. At a 
 word the horses leaped the line and entered upon a 
 full gallop. The enthusiasm of the Apache heart 
 finds, on such occasions, the same expression as the 
 white man's. The cheers and shrill cries of the 
 distant Navajos rolled on ahead of the flying horses 
 toward the spot where Redford stood. The white 
 sand began to rise in thin wavy clouds. These wild 
 horses of the plain spurned them with feet lifted 
 high and dashed forward as if they caught the 
 inspiration of a thousand comrades looking on, wath 
 whom they had scoured the plains under the cloud- 
 less skies above yonder lofty mesas. 
 
 The shouts increased in volume as they neared 
 the finish, and the cheers of Navajos closing in 
 behind them joined the roar of those who stood at 
 the goal to greet them, and nerved the riders to the 
 last spurt to win. 
 
 With streaming hair and savage yells they seemed 
 to be the incarnated spirits of the leaping, panting, 
 
The Races 
 
 wiry-limbed horses as they rushed past and cleared 
 the narrowing space between them and the lariats 
 stretched across the track on the sand. The sorrel 
 leaped the bound by half a length ahead, and the 
 crowd closed around the narrow space where two 
 stalwart judges stood to give their decision with- 
 out dispute or delay. 
 
 There upon the ground at the feet of the winner's 
 owner the Navajos flung down their pledges, mak- 
 ing upon the sand a motley heap of skins and belts 
 and hunting knives and bolts of cloth, and then they 
 silently rode away in squads or singly toward the 
 trading post, or in an opposite direction to the 
 eastern edge of the plain. 
 
 Word had been given by the chief to assemble at 
 the post to hear a message from the Great Father at 
 Washington. Redford could not understand the 
 dispersion of the greater portion of the Navajos, 
 but the interpreter had disappeared and he could 
 make no inquiry as to their departure. 
 
 He was not a man to be easily disturbed by their 
 apparent indifference. He began to reflect upon the 
 message which was of so much importance to the 
 accomplishment of the purpose of his long and 
 somewhat perilous journey. He was to address a 
 people whose words he could not understand, and 
 whose hearts he could not read. He knew, however, 
 that he was to strike at the deepest and strongest 
 prejudices of the most influential members of the 
 tribe. His art of persuasion would be lost in the 
 double interpreting which his words would have — 
 
Chunda 
 
 first into Spanish, by which they were to be told to 
 the chief, and then through that perhaps unfriendly 
 mind to these Indians in their own barbarous speech. 
 The fewest words, the briefest and clearest descrip- 
 tions of what the President wished for them, and 
 what his own thoughts had planned for this people, 
 would, perhaps, be scarcely recognizable in their 
 last utterance as translated by Ha-tsi-niniski. 
 
 He now understood the fatal misunderstandings 
 in all the conferences of Indian commissioners and 
 in the treaties of the government with the tribes, 
 w'hich had baffled good intentions and destroyed the 
 confidence of the American Indians in that govern- 
 ment, to which, in their straightforward way, they 
 had so often appealed in vain for justice and kind- 
 ness. 
 
 Yet he turned hopefully back to the trading 
 post, where two or three hundred Navajo men and 
 women were sitting on their horses or standing 
 dismounted in expectation of his address ; or perhaps 
 of friendly gifts from Washington; and when his 
 approach was noticed many of the Navajos came 
 nearer to him from down the overhanging bluffs and 
 from the vicinity of the booths upon the plain. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 HUT-TAH 
 
 The September sun was still an hour above the 
 western mesas as Redford climbed to the roof of the 
 store whither the chief and the interpreter had pre- 
 ceded him. The reddening rays gave an intensified 
 wildness to the scene. Beneath him was the sway- 
 ing crowd of Navajos, largely composed of squaws 
 who sat astride their horses, clothed in their 
 brightly colored blankets and dark woven skirts. 
 Their black hair, gathered in plaits on the back of 
 their heads, was uncovered, and their faces stained 
 with less vivid colors than the men's. Far out upon 
 the open plain, half a mile away, was the greater 
 multitude all mounted and evidently preparing for 
 some concerted action. 
 
 A shrill call from the chief aroused the attention 
 of the people near him. After a few words in 
 Navajo to them from Ha-tsi-niniski they turned 
 their eyes eagerly upon Redford, to whom the chief 
 made a dignified motion with his hand. 
 
 Rising to his feet, Redford first presented a let- 
 ter of introduction from the agent of the Navajos 
 to the chief. The interpreter was bidden to read 
 it. This young Navajo, educated at the Carlisle 
 School, readily translated it in a clear voice, and 
 then turned to Redford with a request from the 
 
 22> 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 chieftain that he should tell the people what was in 
 his heart. 
 
 A quick glance revealed to the speaker that sev- 
 eral of the foremost principal men of the tribe were 
 near to watch his words and every expression of his 
 face. Among them were Maitzo and Etsah, sons 
 of the head chief, Manuelito, and many intelligent- 
 looking squaws who had ridden nearer to the post 
 as he rose to his feet, and were listening intently 
 to the reading of the letter. 
 
 Redford well knew that his intended plea for the 
 education of their youth and the gradual civiliza- 
 tion of the wdiole tribe would not only encounter 
 the barrier of their customs, but that a direct and 
 violent opposition would at once arise to his argu- 
 ments and even to his presence among this bar- 
 barous people. As he looked down upon the 
 strange assembly below him and out upon the plain, 
 he thought he already saw signs of resistance to 
 him that were designed to turn these wild-faced 
 riders against him and break up the conference 
 in the confusion which their acts of hostility would 
 produce. 
 
 The eager gaze of the principal men scattered 
 among the crowd, the defiant faces of some of the 
 more noticeable women, who he knew in every 
 Apache tribe exerted a powerful influence, and the 
 anxious expression in the countenances of others 
 who seemed to be kindly disposed toward him, be- 
 tokened a decided opposition near at hand. The 
 ominous gathering of more than a thousand men 
 
 24 
 
HUT-TAH 
 
 and women, whose massive array he could plainly 
 see at the eastern edge of Chin-a-li, deepened his 
 conviction, and aroused his courage, at the same 
 time, to a bold but persuasive appeal to those who 
 would listen to him. 
 
 All eyes were upon him now as he began to speak 
 of the Great Father's kind thoughts for his chil- 
 dren, and for their protection and welfare, who 
 now gave his greetings of goodwill and counsel 
 to them by the messenger standing before them. 
 He told them of other tribes of the great Apache 
 family to which the Navajos belonged who had 
 listened to advice and sent their children to the 
 schools provided for them; of the deeper interest 
 of the Great Father and of Congress in their wel- 
 fare because of the efforts of these tribes to become 
 like the white man in wisdom and in their manner 
 of living. They had houses and fields which they 
 individually owned, and in the cultivation of which 
 they took an honest pride and pleasure. 
 
 Then Redford showed them what that education 
 was by photographs of the pupils, of the school 
 buildings and of the work they had done. He told 
 them of the arts of home life which they had learned. 
 Here in these pictures were their houses, their 
 schools, their churches, their stacks of grain and 
 heaps of vegetables and fruits on the fields they 
 had cultivated. Their children were pictured at 
 play in American dresses. Their parents were work- 
 ing in the field, in barns, in stockyards. They had 
 sawmills and flour mills on their lands, blacksmith 
 
 25 
 
Chunda 
 
 shops upon whose forges fires were glowing. They 
 had basket factories and canneries beside their 
 orchards, mowing machines and horserakes at work 
 in their meadows, and yet these Navajos could see 
 that the toilers so gladly at work were of their own 
 race and countenance. Thus mingling illustrations 
 with simple speech. Redford grew eager in his plea 
 and fretted at its slow translation from English to 
 Spanish and thence by Apache words to the compre- 
 hension of his hearers. 
 
 But as he turned his face toward the east his 
 heart sank within him at the sight of a great move- 
 ment in the distant mass of riders, which had 
 already diverted the attention of those around him. 
 The crimsoned light of the sun, low in the horizon, 
 was falling upon the most stirring sight he had wit- 
 nessed since he left the plains of Virginia in the 
 midst of the great civil war. 
 
 A thousand Navajos were sweeping like a whirl- 
 wind across the plain toward him at the swiftest 
 speed of their infuriated horses. Men and women, 
 with their black hair and brilliant garments stream- 
 ing in the wind, were making a wild race which 
 tested to the utmost a thousand strong-limbed ponies 
 and the fearless riding of their masters. Clouds of 
 dust arose around them. In the crush, as they came 
 toward the goal, men and women were hurled from 
 their horses, but there was scarcely a break in the 
 mass which eddied around them. Then the fleetest 
 began to forge ahead and drew out in an irregular, 
 wedge-shaped line. Its symmetry was soon lost as 
 
 26 
 
HUT-TAH 
 
 at intervals a score of riders took the lead, while 
 thundering behind was the mass of flashing color 
 in quick motion, their silver ornaments and rifles 
 glistening with a reddish hue, and coming near to 
 the post. 
 
 Redford had involuntarily ceased to speak to the 
 people, and was gazing now with admiration upon 
 the bewildering scene. It was the rallying of bar- 
 baric force and display to kindle the passions of 
 these hearts for their ancestral life and customs, 
 and to withstand the new ideas which were appeal- 
 ing, not feebly, to their ambition and pride. 
 
 He watched the Navajos as they rode their pant- 
 ing horses slowly from the goal to join the assembly 
 beneath him, and then made a last appeal for 
 brotherhood with the white man in the life of the 
 great American nation : 
 
 "Navajos ! You have sometimes seen, from yon- 
 der mesa, the waters of this silvery stream near us, 
 rolling more and more swiftly down that caiion and 
 flowing out with great depth upon these plains. You 
 have seen them carrying away the maize, the hogans, 
 the fruit trees that your fathers planted in these rin- 
 cons and on these banks. So is the white man. He 
 is coming like a gathering stream from the far East, 
 but a mighty flood of people is behind the white 
 man whom you see, as was the vast lake behind the 
 mountains in your tradition when the Navajo god 
 tore the lofty mesa apart and made a way through 
 this lofty Caiion de Chelly for the floods to sweep 
 down and out upon yonder great plain. 
 
 27 
 
Chunda 
 
 "Navajos! The white men are the flood. You 
 must not, Hke that frail hogan or those booths of 
 branches, try to resist the mighty stream. Give up 
 the customs of your tribe; join your hves with the 
 white people. Become like them in your homes and 
 your pleasures. Work with your hands like them 
 and gather comforts and riches around you. Learn 
 the white man's wisdom and skill of hand. Let your 
 children be taught in schools as are his, and worship 
 his God, the Father of us all, who hath given us 
 everlasting life by his Son. Then shall your lives 
 be like the spring waters and the rains in the summer 
 to this land. The flood will not carry you away, 
 but, like the peach orchards in the caiion above us, 
 they shall be planted by the rivers whose leaf does 
 not wither and whose fruit fails not." 
 
 The meaning of Redford's words slowly reached, 
 through the two interpreters, the Navajos, who 
 increased to a great throng around him. 
 
 There was a commotion as two or three tried to 
 ride near to the trading post and make reply. Fore- 
 most was Hut-tah, who imperiously urged her horse 
 to the front and waved her hand to those behind 
 her, saying to the chief that she wished to say a 
 word to the messenger from Washington. 
 
 Redford turned to see this famous woman of the 
 tribe. She was strongly built, with broad shoulders 
 and a stout, muscular body which, as she sat erect, 
 gave at first the impression of a masculine charac- 
 ter. A deep blue blanket striped with yellow hung 
 across her bosom, fastened at the right shoulder 
 
 28 
 
HUT-TAH 
 
 with a silver spangle. Her neck and left shoulder 
 were bare. A closely woven woolen skirt reached 
 to the top of white deerskin leggins which ended 
 with moccasins covering her small feet. 
 
 Hut-tah, lifting one arm and pointing to Red- 
 ford, with a clear voice addressed him in Navajo 
 speech, and her words were directly interpreted to 
 him as she spoke : 
 
 "The Navajos who hear me have had many words 
 of advice from the Great Father before this man 
 spoke to us. AVe feel kindly toward the Great 
 Father. We have often prospered by doing what 
 he has told us to do. We have raised more sheep 
 and horses. We have sold our wool and blankets. 
 We have produced more maize, and have many and 
 better horses and a few cattle, since we came back to 
 this land of our fathers. 
 
 "But we have our own way of making homes and 
 of training our children. We have heard the 
 stranger ask for our girls to place them in school 
 far away from us. He would teach them to dress 
 and to work and to live as we do not, and make them 
 forget to love and obey their parents. 
 
 "Let this teacher say these words to the Great 
 Father which I have now spoken, and tell him that 
 the Navajo mothers love their girls too much to 
 send them away, and we will have our children go 
 to school in our own country, as the Great Father 
 promised us when we came back to it." 
 
 There was a murmur of satisfaction in the assem- 
 bly, breaking out into decided gutturals, "How," 
 
 29 
 
Chunda 
 
 "How," "How," from prominent men in the throng. 
 Redford knew that Hut-tah's bold opposition would 
 have the effect to delay his success, if it did not 
 defeat its purpose. She was the daughter of Nar- 
 bonne, an influential chief of the conservative party 
 in the tribe, and she had inherited a bitter feeling 
 toward the white man, and cherished it herself from 
 remembrance of their captivity on the reservation 
 at Bosque Redondo. 
 
 "I wish to ask the teacher a question," said a 
 Navajo man whose velvet tunic, the prized gift of 
 an English hunter who had once visited the reserva- 
 tion, and large silver belt and buttons indicated 
 special rank among his tribe. "The man has told us 
 how much better an education at his school would 
 make our children. We know that the white men 
 send their children to school. They grow up and 
 come to the country of the Apaches and of the 
 Navajo. They get strong drink. They rob the 
 Indian people of their lands and of their horses. 
 They give them little money for their wool, and dig 
 the silver and gold out of the hills in the Indian 
 country and drive the red men away. They often 
 shoot and kill our people if they resist such rob- 
 bery. Will the teacher tell us if it is education that 
 makes the white man do these things? Is it this 
 education which he offers to us for our children? 
 They are better without it." 
 
 Redford perceived that the men moved nearer to 
 the trading post after this adroit reply. 
 
 "Navajos," said Redford, "you have among you 
 30 
 
HUT-TAH 
 
 men with good hearts and men with bad hearts. 
 With a bad heart, the more a Navajo knows the 
 more evil he does. It is so with the white man. 
 But we teach the youth to be good and kind to 
 others as well as to know many things. Some of 
 them become bad men and Avomen, like some of your 
 own Navajo youths brought up on the reservation." 
 
 Redford had paused at this reply, fearing lest he 
 should say too much in defense of the barbarities 
 of white men. Another stalwart Navajo took up 
 the discussion ; he was sitting on a large black horse 
 which impatiently smote the sand with his front feet 
 as if sharing the mood of his rider : 
 
 "Why do not the white men leave the Navajos 
 alone? We wish to have nothing to do with them, 
 but to abide in the land which the Great Father has 
 promised shall always be ours. You say that the 
 white men are like the overflowing waters from this 
 river, and will destroy us if we do not become like 
 them. But if they hat€ us now and desire our lands, 
 much more will they be envious and cruel if we 
 possess the land with them." 
 
 "But," replied Redford, "the government at 
 Washington equally protects everyone who becomes 
 a citizen and lives like the rest in obedience to the 
 law." 
 
 "Why, then, will not the government keep the 
 white man from our reservation? We do not dis- 
 obey the laws that were made for the white men. 
 They have not been given to the Navajos." 
 
 "It is because the Navajo claims to belong to 
 31 
 
Chunda 
 
 another people," said Redford, "and to have his own 
 laws and customs, that the white man will crowd 
 him and crush him with his power. This is what 
 you and your fathers have tried to do to the Pueblo 
 peoples in this country for three hundred years. A 
 stronger race will ride over you, as just now your 
 horses trampled on those who fell in that wild rush 
 across the plain." 
 
 Redford's face had become flushed with tender 
 feeling, his voice trembled with the earnestness of 
 his entreaty, and yet its tone fell sadly on his own 
 ears as he perceived how little he had effected by 
 his speech ; but, gathering up all his purpose in one 
 short appeal, he said, with a pleading voice that 
 reached to the farthest horseman on the edge of the 
 assembly : 
 
 "Navajos! Friends! Will you not let us train 
 your children to live as brothers with us and share 
 our prosperity and power?" 
 
 There were many fierce or sullen faces turned 
 toward him in that crowd, but nearly all of them 
 were of men. Some looked sadly upon this pleader, 
 whose heart had been deeply moved. They felt he 
 was a friend, but dared not tell their wishes in the 
 assembly, for the opposition of the medicine men 
 and the leaders among the squaws was unmistakable. 
 
 The colloquy was ended, for the riders began to 
 move toward the place prepared for the great 
 Shaman dance. The chief, Ha-tsi-niniski, turned 
 to Redford and courteously took his hand as he 
 said: 
 
 32 
 
HUT-TAH 
 
 "The people will think over what you have told 
 them, and will give their reply tomorrow." 
 
 "My friends," Redford shouted, in ringing tones 
 that arrested those who were already separated from 
 the rest and departing, "I wish to give you a token 
 of my goodwill to make you enjoy still more your 
 great Shaman dance," and presented a sack of smok- 
 ing tobacco in small packages to the chief. 
 
 Ha-tsi-niniski took the gift from his hands and 
 began to throw the tobacco pouches down to the 
 hundreds of Navajos below him. The scowls left 
 their countenances, which lighted up into smiles that 
 quickly became the laughter of surprise and jollity, 
 and they were soon scrambling for the prizes of 
 goodwill which were flying through the air. 
 
 33 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE shamans' dance 
 
 The darkness had now settled upon the great 
 basin of Chin-a-h, and five or six camp fires cast a 
 hirid Hght upon the low, rocky bluffs beneath which 
 this great company of Navajo people was assem- 
 bled. 
 
 Many who had remained upon their horses dur- 
 ing the conference near the trading post store were 
 still mounted, standing in the outer circles, while 
 squaws and youths were sitting on the sides of the 
 bluffs that here rose like the seats of a Grecian 
 theater for these savage spectators. 
 
 The company of Navajos had swelled in numbers 
 so that, in the deep shadows, they seemed to be a 
 multitude. Hundreds were sitting on the ground 
 around the fires where had been left an open space 
 about fifty feet long and thirty feet wide, at one end 
 of which was a large booth made of freshly cut 
 branches of cottonwood trees. Near the other end 
 of this open space was the hogan where the sick 
 woman lived, whose evil spirit the Shamans had 
 been summoned to cast out by their incantations and 
 dancing. 
 
 Redford sought to divert his sad thoughts by a 
 careful observance of the dance. Though the only 
 white man among these savages, many of whom 
 
 34 
 
The Shamans' Dance 
 
 were unfriendly, and uncertain of what adventures 
 he might meet in the darkness, he knew that he had 
 been received as the guest of their chief, and that 
 as a messenger from Washington he could trust to 
 their respect for the Great Father, whose words they 
 had heard from him. But many had come from 
 their distant hogans who had not been in the assem- 
 bly where he had spoken, and there were as evil- 
 minded men in this barbaric tribe as among other 
 Apaches, who would, perhaps, take advantage of 
 the darkness to rob or injure the stranger. Deter- 
 mined to keep a bold but cautious demeanor before 
 these Navajos, Redford passed slowly among the 
 horses and through the crowded circles of men and 
 women sitting or standing around the fires. Now a 
 friendly hand would be stretched out to him, or a 
 mounted Navajo, whose face was visible by the 
 firelight, would nod in recognition, while others 
 were indifferent or averted their faces. 
 
 Redford was uncertainly advancing toward the 
 hogan, when he felt a touch upon his shoulder. He 
 looked back with a little alarm at this unusual 
 movement. 
 
 "Wi-jee-gee-dee-ek," said a slow but distinct 
 voice, and a hand was extended to him in the dark- 
 ness. 
 
 The Navajo salutation, "My brother," was famil- 
 iar to him, and a kind one, but he could not see the 
 face. 
 
 "Ti-dow-olge?" ("What is the name?") he re- 
 plied, and drew him toward the camp fire. 
 
 35 
 
Chunda 
 
 "Ind-ah Hot-si," said the Navajo; "Ind-ah-see- 
 kis." ("I am Hot-si ; I am a friend.") 
 
 Redford recognized the young hunter with whom 
 he had parted that morning at his own camp fire on 
 the distant Mesa de Vaca. 
 
 With a smile Hot-si put out his hand and pointed 
 to the hogan. 
 
 Trusting to his guidance, Redford, now fully 
 recognized by the Navajos in the firelight, nodded 
 to them as he passed by and entered the hogan. 
 
 In the center a small fire was burning beneath 
 the opening at the top where the poles met, upon 
 which were interwoven branches and a coating of 
 mud inside and outside of this conical-shaped dwell- 
 ing. The place was filled with smoke, but Redford 
 counted twenty-five or more Navajos sitting around 
 the fire, on one side of which was the sick woman 
 squatting upon the ground. 
 
 A low, monotonous beat of a tom-tom was kept 
 up by someone hidden in the shadows and the 
 smoke that filled the hogan with a thick bluish haze. 
 Two or three medicine men were sitting near the 
 sick squaw and uttering a low chant. They were 
 preparing their patient for the great ceremonies 
 which were to cure her of all her troubles by casting 
 out the evil spirit who caused them. 
 
 At a signal the woman arose and taking a basket 
 of corn meal scattered it first upon the Shamans, 
 then upon the fire, then again upon herself and 
 toward the people who sat around her as guards or 
 comforters. This ceremony was repeated about 
 
 36 
 
The Shamans' Dance 
 
 every ten minutes for an hour, the chant being sung 
 at intervals by the Shamans and by all the company 
 with the incessant beating of the tom-tom. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the booth opposite the hogan where 
 these preparatory rites were going on, the principal 
 Shamans who were dancers had been getting ready 
 for their all-night work. Redford, tiring of the 
 scenes in the hogan, rose to his feet with his young 
 guide and sought the fresh night air for relief. The 
 throng of dark-faced people and horses, their col- 
 ored garments and trappings heightened in effect by 
 the fitful flames of the camp fires, were types of the 
 mental and spiritual darkness which their dim per- 
 ceptions made more sensible to his thoughtful gaze. 
 
 As Redford followed his Navajo friend through 
 the crowd he felt his hands suddenly grasped, and 
 before he knew whither he was being led he found 
 himself sitting on the ground close to the open space 
 for the dance, and by the full light of the fires under 
 the gaze of hundreds of swarthy Apache faces. 
 
 The Shamans were still in their lodge of branches, 
 and Redford improved the moments of waiting to 
 scrutinize these worshipers of demons. Their coun- 
 tenances betrayed neither joy, faith, nor hope, but 
 indifference or melancholy, as if they were forced, 
 by the tyranny of superstition, to accept the services 
 of the priests of witchcraft, who were about to 
 "make medicine" in healing their patient. 
 
 Opposite to Redford the face of a young girl of 
 about fourteen years arrested his attention. Her 
 deep black eyes glistened in the firelight. Beneath 
 
 37 
 
Chunda 
 
 her thoughtful brow were cheeks less full than 
 usual in Apache maidens. Her lips outlined a mouth 
 that indicated firmness, but discontent. Her hair 
 was combed neatly over her ears in the fashion of 
 a maiden of her tribe. Her figure, though partly 
 hidden in the folds of her blanket, was evidently 
 slight and tall for her age. 
 
 Redford caught her eye fixed inquiringly upon 
 him, and as she turned her head away he remem- 
 bered that this face in the assembly an hour before 
 had specially awakened his most earnest appeal to 
 the Navajo women. A subtle recognition of a 
 hungering spirit, awakened to a new but strangely 
 thrilling destiny which she had even then experi- 
 enced, had communicated to his consciousness that 
 he was to be her guide out of the darkness to the 
 world of which she had a momentary vision. The 
 messenger of the Great Father had, from that in- 
 stant, been transformed to her mind as a spiritual 
 guide whose power should break the galling bonds 
 of the evil Shamans which she had perceived so 
 firmly fastened upon her people. 
 
 The girl was not alone, but sitting by her side 
 was her mother, whose features were in marked 
 contrast to those of Hut-tah, who had so success- 
 fully opposed Redford in the assembly. She, too, 
 had been deeply moved by his intense appeal, and 
 had two or three times made a movement forward 
 to speak, from which she had been dissuaded by a 
 stalwart Navajo mounted on the horse that had 
 won at the race in the afternoon. 
 
 38 
 
The Shamans' Dance 
 
 Redford was yet to learn on the morrow that she 
 was Hut-tah's cousin, but that her own name, 
 Hedipa, was known as "the woman who brings com- 
 fort." Her eyes were compassionate, her Hps joy- 
 ous, and ah the hnes of her thoroughly Navajo face 
 were softened. 
 
 The Navajo had taken a seat beside Redford, 
 who, as he turned to ask Hot-si by a sign when the 
 dance would begin, saw a smile of recognition upon 
 his lips and his eyes directed to the maiden, who, 
 with a clear and steady gaze, returned her lover's 
 greeting. 
 
 At this moment a loud beat of the tom-tom and a 
 shrill cry from the lodge turned the eyes of all to a 
 procession of dancers emerging singly from the 
 entrance and slowly approaching, in silence, the cen- 
 tral space between the fires. There was a hush of 
 fear and expectation in the spectators as they took 
 their positions. There were twelve stalwart men 
 standing in parallel rows, six feet apart, with faces 
 turned outward. They bowed low to the multitude ; 
 then, reversing their positions, they did the same to 
 those opposite. Their bodies, nearly naked, were 
 painted in different colors, with symbolic figures of 
 white, red and black on a lighter surface spread 
 upon their chests and backs. Their faces were cov- 
 ered with masks of a pallid hue and streaked with 
 yellow ; their hair tied in knots or streaming beneath 
 their tall masks. Above all were wreaths of green 
 leaves and twigs, and from the heads of the dancers 
 projected goats' horns. Strings of rattling orna- 
 
 39 
 
Chunda 
 
 ments hung from their waists or were carried in 
 their hands, and moccasins in white, yellow and 
 brown covered their feet. 
 
 Crouching their bodies and uttering low whoops, 
 they at first began a slow dance, the movements 
 of which became swifter as they circled in and out 
 of the three camp fires inclosed by them, varying 
 their postures with each round. 
 
 The sick woman soon came out of the hogan, and, 
 walking up and down the rows of dancers, scattered 
 sacred hiddotin^ upon them, which they acknowl- 
 edged with a low bow, and as she cast it into the air 
 and over herself they broke out into loud cries. The 
 tom-toms were vigorously keeping time for these 
 movements; yet the Navajos gazed with impas- 
 sive countenances. The patient fixed her eyes 
 upon the ground as the dancers, passing her, waved 
 their hands and arms up and down over her head 
 with cries of pain or of supplication to the spirits 
 of the air and of the fires. Then they stretched their 
 arms out as if the sick woman's prayers were 
 granted. In fifteen minutes the first incantation 
 ceased, and the spectral Shamans, bowing, returned 
 slowly to their lodge. After an interval of ten 
 minutes they came back, and, with the same prelimi- 
 nary movements but arranged in different groups, 
 they went through similar figures of the dance. 
 Each time the communication between them and 
 the mind of the patient was established by the scat- 
 tering of the hiddotin, through which also the 
 
 ' Made from the fine pollen of the flag. 
 
 40 
 
The Shamans' Dance 
 
 Shamans' power of exorcism was made effective 
 over the evil spirit who had caused her disease. 
 
 An hour had passed, and Redford motioned to 
 Hot-si that he would go to the sides of the bluff to 
 survey the weird scene below. As they retired from 
 the fires they were curiously watched by the people, 
 but once out of the crowd, which they found almost 
 impassable, Redford went up the slope of the bluffs 
 and sat down among many women and children 
 where, for the next two hours, were photographed 
 on his mind sights which stirred his deepest sym- 
 pathies. 
 
 He saw the indescribable devil worship that for 
 centuries had held these savage peoples in bondage 
 to evil, and groaning now in these rites for redemp- 
 tion from their fears and from bodily ills. He noted 
 the glimmerings of faith in an unseen world, whose 
 powers wrought for mercy and help to the suffer- 
 ing and sorrowful of earth. Here was natural 
 reason subverted to the sway of the imagination, 
 and a higher nature feebly asserting itself against 
 the bondage of their senses. On one side were craft, 
 covetousness, deceit and ambition ruling over in- 
 ferior minds; on the other side was blind devotion 
 or unwilling submission to their hated sway. 
 
 Redford had seen enough. He knew what to 
 expect in these midnight orgies when these devil 
 dances were ended. The unusual fatigues of the 
 day could no longer be resisted. His Navajo com- 
 panion was being kept from his sweetheart wdiile 
 so faithfully serving him, and he therefore bade 
 
 41 
 
Chunda 
 
 him meet him in the morning at the trading post. 
 Then lie returned alone to the store, where a pile 
 of blankets had been laid upon the counter by Green- 
 field, the trader, who had anxiously awaited his 
 coming out of this crowd of savages, into which 
 he would not himself venture. 
 
 The door was securely fastened, but these two 
 white men listened to hideous cries and the beats 
 of tom-toms, increasing each hour in intensity 
 around them, with a dread which only weariness 
 could dull as they sank into sleep disturbed by the 
 revels of two thousand Navajos and the tramp of 
 horses when they scattered to their distant hogans. 
 
 4-> 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 CHUNDA 
 
 When Redford looked out from the door of the 
 trading post upon the Chin-a-h plain in the early 
 morning he could see not more than a hundred 
 Navajos remaining of the great company gathered 
 there the previous night. The sunlight streamed 
 brilliantly across the eastern bluffs upon the men 
 scattered about in the preparations to depart. Some 
 were girding saddles or blankets to their horses' 
 backs, while others were mounting and riding away. 
 The booths had disappeared, a few embers were 
 smoldering where the camp fires had been; there 
 were no shouts or loud cries as would have been 
 heard among a disorderly company of white men ; 
 but the stillness of the neighboring canon and of 
 the distant mountains seemed to be gathering over 
 the scenes of revel. Chin-a-li, which a few hours 
 before was so full of animate color and form and the 
 strange sounds of savage incantations, was almost 
 deserted. 
 
 Ha-tsi-niniski was standing near the post store 
 with a few men around him. Redford perceived 
 among them Chos, the interpreter, to whom he 
 nodded, and approaching the group accosted the 
 chief : 
 
 "She-nantee (Chief), what have the people de- 
 43 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 cided as to their girls? Can I take any away to my 
 school?" 
 
 "The women are opposed," Ila-tsi-niniski re- 
 plied. "The women will not give up their girls," 
 
 "Are they unwilling that I should go to their 
 hogans and persuade them?" 
 
 "It will not do good now, sefior. They must 
 think longer upon it." 
 
 "Do the men sustain their wives in this refusal?" 
 
 "The women control their girls as they please," 
 said the chief. 
 
 "Are they all determined to resist the Great 
 Father's request?" 
 
 "Some of the men approve of the school. You 
 may get some of their boys." 
 
 "But is there not one girl to go back with me?" 
 
 "Senor," said the chief, cautiously, "there is a 
 mother yonder who desires her child to go with 
 you, but Hut-tah has threatened her with harm if 
 she consents." 
 
 "And why does Hut-tah object so strongly?" 
 urged Red ford. 
 
 "Ah, senor, she will never yield the customs of 
 her fathers. She rules the Navajo tribe according 
 to her wish whenever she speaks to the people." 
 
 "She-nantee, you fill me with surprise," said Red- 
 ford, "and yet I felt last evening that the spirits of 
 your ancestors were about when she addressed me 
 before the people." 
 
 Ha-tsi-niniski looked sharply into Redford's eyes 
 at this reply, and then turned toward the Chelly 
 
 44 
 
Chunda 
 
 Canon, where thin clouds of mist were rising from 
 the stream and climbing up the sides of the chff. 
 For a few moments he seemed to be wrapped in 
 meditation, or perhaps in prayer. Then he came 
 nearer to Redford and laid his hand upon his shoul- 
 der. He motioned to Chos to separate himself from 
 the two or three Navajos who were intently listen- 
 ing to the colloquy between their chief and the 
 teacher, and, taking the interpreter by the hand, he 
 said in a low tone in the Navajo tongue to Redford: 
 
 "Hut-tah is much to be feared, for the Navajos 
 know her sorrow and her wrongs. Her husband 
 was murdered by a white man, and her young babe 
 was hurled from the cliff into yonder canon by his 
 murderer. She fled with another child, just able to 
 walk, to a cave in those rocks which the white sol- 
 diers could not reach, and when she returned to her 
 people she took a solemn oath to the Navajo god 
 that she would hold her people firm to their faith 
 and never let them yield land or flock or children 
 to your people's care or possession." 
 
 Redford's face flushed with emotion as the chief, 
 in pathetic tones, told him this story of cruelty, 
 which, in the subjugation of the Navajos in 1862 
 and 1863, had been repeated many times, while 
 those who had refused to surrender had been hunted 
 like wild beasts and shot by United States soldiers. 
 The secret of her fearless opposition was revealed, 
 and he admired, in his deepest heart, the woman who 
 would resist him to the last moment of her life. 
 
 "I would like to see Hut-tah's cousin, the mother 
 45 
 
Chunda 
 
 of whom you have told me," said Redford. "What 
 is her name?" 
 
 "Hedipa, and she waits for you with her daughter 
 behind that sharp cliff in the canon, if you will seek 
 her." 
 
 Redford looked to a point half a mile away, near 
 which curled upward a thin wreath of smoke, darker 
 than the silvery vapors which were rapidly disap- 
 pearing in the sun's rays. He bethought him of a 
 face, gentler than the rest, that had been opposite 
 to him as he sat the night before near the dancers 
 in the light of the fires through which they moved 
 in mysterious figures. He recalled at the same time 
 the anxious looks of Hot-si as he sat by his side, 
 and the furtive motion of his hands when his own 
 attention was drawn to the dancers. Turning to 
 Parker, his guide, who had been watching his con- 
 versation with the chief, Redford said quickly : 
 
 "Hire for me one of those Navajo ponies, Parker, 
 for two hours ; I wish to ride up the caiion. And 
 get one for yourself, for you must show me the way 
 into that gorge." 
 
 Redford now went into the post store and break- 
 fasted with the trader, and as he came out of the 
 tent where the meal had been taken Parker rode 
 up with the horses and Redford mounted, deter- 
 mined to follow up the slightest trail that would 
 bring him to a pupil. 
 
 Ha-tsi-niniski was just starting away, and, riding 
 up to his guest, he reined in his pony and said : 
 
 "Sefior, tell the Great Father many thanks, and 
 46 
 
Chunda 
 
 say to him that the Navajo people will think and 
 speak of his message in their hogans. In the winter 
 they will hold a council, and at the next harvest 
 dance, in another autumn, they will give him an 
 answer through you, if you will come again to us." 
 
 Then, taking the teacher by the hand he embraced 
 him, saying in a low tone, "Adios, sefior, usted esta 
 nuestro amigo. Buenos dias 1" 
 
 Redford returned his earnest farewell and rode 
 sadly and slowly across the wide entrance to the 
 cajion. 
 
 It was a calm, bright September morning; not a 
 cloud was in the sky, not a ripple in the air. His 
 purpose was stronger for the interview that had 
 just passed, but his heart was heavy at the delay. 
 "One year! How much might have been wrought 
 in that time," he sighed, "if these Navajos had 
 known what was for their peace!" 
 
 Parker was leading the way to the brink of the 
 Chelly River, which was wide and shallow, though 
 under its rippling current full of quicksands. Select- 
 ing a place to ford, the guide cautiously urged his 
 horse into the stream. The bottom yielded to the 
 tread of the animals as they neared the other side. 
 With a few leaps to the right they cleared the dan- 
 gerous spot, and, galloping a hundred yards further 
 along the bank, they turned the point of the cliff. 
 Looking up, the riders saw the smoke of a fire a 
 third of a mile above the turn. As they approached 
 Redford perceived three persons around the fire, and 
 recognized, from the chief's description, Hedipa 
 
 47 
 
L.IIUNDA 
 
 and her daughter, and on the other side of the fire 
 the Navajo hunter. 
 
 Hot-si came forward to greet his friend and led 
 him to the woman, who received him with a smile, 
 though Redf ord perceived beneath it a troubled look. 
 
 Parker's acquaintance with the Navajo language 
 now served Redford in the conversation which 
 Hedipa, with a quiet dignity, began. She was 
 ready to place her child in Redford's care if she 
 could see the women who would teach and train her 
 to be like the daughters of the white man ; but she 
 had been bitterly chided by Hut-tah, who had left 
 her the evening before with an ominous gesture, 
 should she yield to her better wishes for the child's 
 welfare. 
 
 It was an eventful hour that he spent by that fire 
 under the cliff. In it he learned much of the mother's 
 heart. She held her child with no common love, but 
 with a forecast of her future which a divine intuition 
 rather than a selfish ambition had given her. 
 Chunda,^ her daughter, was a young maiden of four- 
 teen years. She had rare beauty for a Navajo girl. 
 Her features were sprightly and her eyes intelligent, 
 her face mobile, her brow wide and clear from every 
 trace of cunning and of care. Her figure was slen- 
 der, but vigorous in motion, and there was a sparkle 
 of hope mingled with a generous resolve lighting 
 her countenance. As she caught Hot-si's eager 
 search into her thoughts, when her mother turned to 
 ask her if she were perfectly willing to leave them 
 
 ^Pronounced Choon-da, 
 
Chunda 
 
 for so long, her eyes fell and her breath came 
 quickly as she put her hand into her mother's and 
 moved nearer to her side, tenderly addressing her, 
 
 "She-ma," she said softly, "if Hot-si consents to 
 wait for me so many months, I will go for his sake 
 to show him how the white men become so wise. 
 He then shall lead his people." 
 
 "But," said her mother, "Hot-si says he will go, 
 too, to another school in the white man's land, and 
 will learn for himself to be worthy of you and of 
 our nation. He must know how to save his people 
 from the destruction that will sweep them away 
 before the multitudes that will come upon us. Can 
 you bear the parting that is so hard for me? She- 
 nal-le! She-nal-le!" 
 
 The daughter, thus addressed, threw herself upon 
 her mother's bosom in the agony of a child's fore- 
 boding; then lifting her tearful eyes toward her 
 face, and reading the expression of an heroic pur- 
 pose to save her from the brutal scenes she had just 
 witnessed, she smiled through her tears, and with 
 a glance of trusting love toward her betrothed 
 answered : 
 
 "I will go, and we will both return to comfort 
 you. She-ma!" 
 
 Redford was too thoughtful of a mother's anxiety 
 to withhold sympathy with a woman's protecting 
 care of her loved child. He promised that one of 
 his daughters whom he had left at Fort Defiance 
 should be with him when he took the child away. 
 Then, telling Hedipa to meet him in three days with 
 
 49 
 
Chunda 
 
 Hot-si and Chunda at the Haystacks, three pyramids 
 of rock rising fifty or sixty feet above the plain, 
 on the trail from Fort Defiance to Manuelito Sta- 
 tion, he mounted his horse and rode slowly back to 
 the trading post in anxious conversation with his 
 guide. 
 
 The spell of the Shamans was broken. The bar- 
 riers of superstition had been pierced. A ray of 
 light w^as shining in upon this land of darkness, and 
 a few souls were struggling toward it. But wdiat a 
 conflict was begun with the powers that had so long 
 held sway over that nation ! 
 
 50 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 TSWANE 
 
 The long shadows of the western cHffs were fall- 
 ing upon the trail which led to a rincon in the Chelly 
 Cafion about ten miles from the Chin-a-li trading 
 post. There were signs of a gathering of Navajo 
 people for some important event, for riders were to 
 be seen far down the gorge coming gayly dressed 
 from the distant plains and from the eastern 
 branches of the Chelly, which here came into the 
 main cafion. The walls rise into peaks which pierce 
 the sky, but are smooth and perpendicular on their 
 sides, as if the regular strata of which they are 
 made were laid up with a plumb line. These strata 
 are from ten to twenty-five feet thick and distinctly 
 marked by perfectly parallel lines of color to the 
 bottom of the canon. Where they have been curved 
 and twisted great caves have been formed from 
 two to three hundred feet above the base, in which 
 are the ruins built of irregular masonry that were 
 the dwellings of the ancient cliff dwellers. 
 
 As the shadows deepen into twilight many more 
 horsemen are to be seen hastening to the rincon, 
 and now the gloom of the short, deep gorge is re- 
 lieved by several fires around which the company 
 of Navajos are standing, or sitting on their horses, 
 and with amused faces and gay laughter anticipat- 
 
 51 
 
Chunda 
 
 ing the marriage dance to which they have been 
 summoned. 
 
 Two or three hogans are brought into view by 
 the flames of dry pihon and cedar, that give a strong 
 but uncertain hght and cause the walls and crags 
 to appear to rise to an immense height above the 
 noisy and gleeful company. There is a sound of 
 the tom-tom in one of the hogans, and the people 
 who have been moving about gather around a space 
 between the fires and wait the appearance of the 
 dancers. These are the young men who aspire to 
 the hand of the maiden who will tonight choose 
 her husband from those who shall have pleased her 
 most by their dancing. 
 
 The players on the tom-tom come out of the 
 hogan and take a position at one end of the danc- 
 ing ground. Their voices begin in a low tone to 
 chant in unison with the drum beats. As the chant 
 becomes louder a dozen sprightly youths with bows 
 and spears in their hands, with feathers on their 
 heads and a great profusion of bright-colored paints 
 on their faces and arms, leap into the center of the 
 space reserved for them. Forming in lines, they 
 begin a swaying motion with their bodies and arms ; 
 they lift their feet in alternation from right to left, 
 then crouch with bended knees and move forward 
 at the tom-tom beats. The chants rise more shrill 
 and strong upon the air. The dancers turn in and 
 about and around the fires, uttering whoops and 
 sounds of joy, or extending their arms in entreaty. 
 The time is quickened and the motions become more 
 
 52 
 
TSWANE 
 
 violent. In a booth in view of the dancing ground 
 is the maiden in rich attire of painted buckskins, a 
 bright blanket on her shoulders and partially cover- 
 ing the deep blue skirt interwoven with borders of 
 red and green and yellow. Her neck and arms are 
 covered with beads and silver ornaments. As her 
 suitors circle in front of the booth they bow and 
 beckon to the maiden to come and join them. She 
 rises to her feet, but at first refuses. After several 
 unsuccessful attempts to allure her into the dance, 
 each aspirant for her hand having performed a 
 great variety of figures and motions, one gains 
 favor, and she moves into the company, who respect- 
 fully form around her a circle of dancers, while she 
 begins to join in the movement alone in the center 
 of the group. 
 
 Then she retires to the booth. The dancers repeat 
 with greater energy and variety their movements 
 of limbs and bodies with every contortion possible, 
 and with chants or songs. Again the maiden con- 
 descends to join the company of her admirers. As 
 she dances, still alone, she keeps her eye on some 
 favorite to encourage him in his efforts, but retires 
 without a choice. 
 
 The singers have rested their voices, but not their 
 fingers, which beat continuously their drums. The 
 dancers have not ceased their motions of feet or 
 hands for three hours, though they have greatly 
 varied them from quicker pace to slower, and then 
 anew given themselves to the most intense demon- 
 strations of their hope to win the maiden. 
 
 53 
 
Chunda 
 
 It is partly a matter of endurance as well as of 
 skill and variety in which the contest lies. For 
 two hours and a half they have pleaded with inces- 
 sant gesture of their bodies, brandishing their bows 
 and spears to increase the effect of their motions. 
 At last the maiden joins the dancers to make her 
 choice. Each suitor has pleaded for the last time, 
 by his grace of form and movement, for her favor 
 and hand. The happy moment arrives for one who 
 has won her heart, perhaps, before the dance, but 
 unknown to him, or has caught her favor by his 
 pleas of gifts as well as by strength, endurance and 
 personal attractions combined. She enters the cir- 
 cle hand in hand with him, passes through all the 
 figures of the dance, and retires with her chosen hus- 
 band amid the loud chants and demonstrations of 
 the company. 
 
 A few preliminaries are arranged. The young 
 man has promised to bring five or six ponies to the 
 uncle or brother of the maiden, and claim her for 
 his bride. The chief or a principal man of the 
 tribe gives his consent and ratification of the com- 
 pact, and the marriage dance is ended. 
 
 Redford had been a spectator of this scene, for 
 the invitation had reached him that morning at the 
 post from Hut-tah herself, whose daughter, rescued 
 years before in this very canon from the fury of 
 white men, was thus given in marriage according 
 to the customs of the tribe to one of the boldest and 
 most stalwart warriors. 
 
 Herrera, the son of Ganado Mucho, the chief of 
 54 
 
TSWANE 
 
 the Navajos west of the mountains, had won the 
 hand of the maiden Tswane. Hut-tah had been 
 faithful to her vow, and with a smile of triumph she 
 came up to Redford and said : 
 
 "Teacher, tell the Great Father at Washington 
 that the Xavajo maidens are yet content to tend 
 their flocks and keep the hogans for their husbands. 
 They will follow in the ways of their fathers and 
 keep the happy traditions of those to whom the 
 Xavajo god gave this land." 
 
 As she said this she turned to Chos, whom she 
 had brought with her to Redford's side, and beck- 
 oned to him to repeat the words to him. Redford 
 had already perceived her meaning, and was reflect- 
 ing upon a suitable reply to this woman of strong 
 will and persistent hostility to his mission to these 
 neglected Apaches. 
 
 "I do not wonder that you are pleased tonight to 
 have your daughter faithful to your training and to 
 her religion. You will keep her near you. Do you 
 wish her life to be wholly like your own?" 
 
 There was a quick remembrance of her wrongs, 
 of her fugitive life when she escaped the cruelty of 
 soldiers by hiding in caves and eating only wild 
 fruits, pinon nuts and roots stealthily gathered, 
 wandering from one deserted hogan to another with 
 her little child only to find the hunted, miserable 
 remnants of her tribe in the same unhappy condition 
 as herself. Her cheeks flushed with shame, then 
 grew pale with anger, as she turned her flashing 
 black eyes upon Redford. 
 
 55 
 
Chunda 
 
 "Can I forget," she said, "what miseries your 
 people have laid on me and my kindred? I waited 
 here till you sent them back from Bosque Redondo, 
 with promises of tools and plows which you had 
 taught them to use, of cattle and horses, of blankets 
 and clothes, of seed corn and wheat and even of 
 schools and teachers for all our children. Where 
 are these? Where are the cabins they were to 
 build ? Where are the cattle and horses and sheep ? 
 You have told us to raise these in our own way, and 
 we have many sheep. We have made our blankets 
 as our fathers taught us, and you praise them and 
 buy them of us. We have cultivated these valleys 
 with sticks and have plenty of corn and beans and 
 melons. We have the peaches from the orchards 
 that our fathers planted in this canon, and we have 
 the horses we need, and live in our hogans in peace. 
 What more do we want ? Let us alone, and do not 
 teach our girls to pity and despise their mothers, nor 
 our boys to forget the deeds and traditions of their 
 fathers in learning the wisdom and the ways of the 
 white man." 
 
 Redford perceived Hut-tah's restraint of bitter 
 words and angry taunts. She had seen his sincere 
 desire for the welfare of the Navajos, and would 
 have extended her hand to him had she not hated 
 his countrymen and feared their power. 
 
 "Hut-tah," he replied, "the white man is never 
 content with the life his fathers have lived, nor the 
 things they have learned, nor the lands they have 
 cultivated. He ever seeks better things for his chil- 
 
 S6 - 
 
TSWANE 
 
 dren than he has had himself; he takes from the 
 Indian every year more and more of his lands, be- 
 cause he believes that the red man is unworthy of 
 the land that the wise and skillful and the indus- 
 trious can use and make better. Your children 
 would be happy to live like him and by his side. 
 Your sons, if educated, would find pride in what 
 they could do to change and improve these wild 
 lands and make these valleys like the rich home lands 
 of the white man. Your daughters would be re- 
 spected, admired and loved for the bright and happy 
 homes they would keep and their knowledge of all 
 things beautiful to say and do ; to sew and to sing ; 
 to make comely garments ; to adorn their houses 
 and tables, and prepare healthful and tasteful food ; 
 to be as beautiful as the flowers and as wise as their 
 husbands and to keep their love; to learn of the 
 white man's religion and to love the story of the 
 Saviour of men who came from God to make us all 
 like his children in the spirit land. This is what 
 we would like to do for the Navajo sons and daugh- 
 ters, if you will let them learn our ways," 
 
 The words of Redford, slowly interpreted to this 
 poor woman into whose soul had entered the red-hot 
 iron of the white man's cruelty, first roused her 
 resentment. Then an unspeakable sadness settled 
 upon her face. Her vow could not be broken, and 
 she gathered all the passion of her nature into this 
 last reply: 
 
 "The teacher's words are as the flight of an arrow 
 straight from the bow, but his people always deceive 
 
 57 
 
CriUNDA 
 
 and betray us. They never keep their promises. 
 Why, then, should he? No, senor, take from us, if 
 you will, these streams and plains and mountains; 
 drive us on toward the lands where there is no water 
 and no grass ; but you cannot, you shall not take our 
 children and leave us desolate like the leafless trees, 
 charred and bleached, through which the fires have 
 burned and the winds have swept." 
 
 Hut-tah turned away as the last words fell from 
 the interpreter's lips. As she slowly moved through 
 the flickering firelight toward her hogan two women 
 who had been standing in the shadows near Red- 
 ford, and intently listening to these impassioned 
 pleadings, quietly followed her and disappeared into 
 a neighboring hogan. By the dim light Redford 
 recognized Hedipa and Chunda, wdiose hearts had 
 been moved again by the words of Redford, which 
 he had gently poured into their willing ears the 
 day before as he sat by their camp fire. 
 
 Calling to Parker to bring the horses, Redford 
 rode out of the rincon into the mighty canon, whose 
 cliffs and massive sides rose in gigantic height 
 against a moonless sky. The gloom oppressed him. 
 His soul groped for light on his path. He had 
 thrown himself into the midst of the Navajo people 
 and pleaded for their children with scarcely a move- 
 ment among them in his favor. To return unsuc- 
 cessful from such an adventure was unlike his recent 
 experiences among the other Apaches. His hopes 
 had been clouded, his faith smitten with a stagger- 
 ing blow. There seemed to be an impassable bar- 
 
 58 
 
TSWANE 
 
 rier to his progress in the dense ignorance and 
 strong prejudices of this tribe, and the all-powerful 
 control of the leaders among their medicine men and 
 their women. 
 
 The walls of the canon seemed to close above 
 Redford and then suddenly to part as if riven by a 
 lightning flash. The wrench to his strong purpose 
 had loosened and he cried aloud, "There is honey 
 in the carcase of this lion." He had remembered 
 the ancient riddle. 
 
 59 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 HEDIPA 
 
 The echo of horses' hoofs striking against the 
 rocky trail which winds through the Chelly Caiion 
 was heard far beyond midnight, as the Navajo 
 dancers and the gay-hearted and boisterous specta- 
 tors rode away from the rincon. Their laughter, 
 mingled with savage whoops made more and more 
 indistinct by the projecting cliffs and turns of the 
 main canon, gave the impression of ghostly revelers 
 in the lofty caves and airy castles whose turrets 
 rose against the night sky above the steep walls of 
 this mighty gorge. At last it was still in the vicinity 
 of the rincon, where the inmates of three or four 
 hogans had been talking over the merits of the 
 competitors in the dance for the beautiful maiden, 
 Tswane. 
 
 The hogan occupied by Hedipa and Chunda was 
 nearer the mouth of the rincon, a hundred rods from 
 that of her cousin. In Hedipa's humble dwelling 
 there was no thought of rest. She had been pre- 
 paring for a long ride, and had gathered in a deer- 
 skin bag the simple food which would sustain her- 
 self and companions till her return. This was chiefly 
 gray flaky cakes of corn bread, which is the staple 
 food on the trail. Like crackers or the hard-tack 
 used by soldiers and seamen, it does not change by 
 
 60 
 
Hedipa 
 
 age or conditions of climate. A roll of dried peaches 
 and strips of dried mutton and venison completed 
 the supply of food. 
 
 Near the hogan three horses were tethered by 
 lariats of horsehair, and rolls of blankets and skins 
 were fastened to the Apache saddles and girths over 
 their backs. 
 
 It was long past midnight. The clouds were 
 hanging darkly over the canon, but rifts in them 
 indicated the passage of the moon near the zenith. 
 As the clouds thickened Hedipa came out of the 
 hogan and looked anxiously up the rincon. All was 
 quiet in the hogans above her, and her low hoot was 
 answered by Hot-si, who approached from the 
 shadow of the cliffs and untethered the horses. 
 
 As the ponies stopped in the rear of the hogan 
 Hedipa and Chunda came out and silently mounted. 
 The food sack was fastened by thongs to the saddle 
 of Hedipa's pony, and Chunda sat upon the blankets 
 which were girded upon her horse. At this moment 
 a sudden gust of wind swept up the cafion, and a 
 low rumble of thunder was heard above its walls. 
 A storm cloud floated high over this narrow cleft 
 of the mountain mesa. It was a favorable time to 
 escape unobserved from the rincon, and the ponies 
 were guided hastily along the edges of the sandy bed 
 of an arroyo leading through the rincon to avoid 
 the click of their hoofs upon the stones. As they 
 turned up the main canon they struck into a well- 
 worn trail. Then, for the first time, Hedipa spoke 
 in an audible voice : 
 
 6i 
 
Chunda 
 
 "Hot-si, have you told Aha-la-ni to meet us at 
 the Casa Blanca?" 
 
 "Yes, I have seen Aha-la-ni and her cousin 
 already pass the rincon riding toward it." 
 
 "Were there men with them?" 
 
 "Two men and three girls." 
 
 "Did you speak to them?" 
 
 "No, they were riding fast in the shadow of the 
 wall." 
 
 "Chunda," said the mother cheerfully, "you will 
 not be alone." 
 
 "Ah, She-ma, but I must leave you so long!" 
 
 "She-nal-le, even that is better than to stay with 
 these Klee-char-ee." She hissed the word that called 
 the men of her own tribe dogs. 
 
 The scenes of past years had been vividly recalled, 
 wath their memories of shame and womanly wrath, 
 by the marriage dance that night. Hedipa loved 
 her daughter too well to fasten her to such a life 
 as she had herself endured and witnessed around 
 her in the years of her widowhood. 
 
 They rode in silence again, Hot-si, two or three 
 rods ahead, carrying his trusty Winchester in front 
 of him. 
 
 "She-ma, shall I find mothers like you among the 
 white women?" timidly asked Chunda, as they 
 halted for a few moments while Hot-si tried the 
 ford of the Chelly, The trail often ran across the 
 stream, for, in its many windings, the current was 
 forced close against the straight walls of the cafion, 
 where there was no room for the passage of horses. 
 
 62 
 
Hedipa 
 
 "The white mothers are kind and good, Chunda. 
 We may trust the teacher's words more than the 
 words of the Shamans. The white women will teach 
 you like their own children. Why should they seek 
 out the daughters of the Navajos so far away, when 
 they have so many of their own to nurture and train 
 for their homes? Their religion teaches them to 
 love the poor and the homeless, and to make them 
 know the way of a better life. I heard the teacher 
 yesterday, as he was sitting under the cliff alone 
 waiting for the dance, singing to his God. I was 
 behind the rock with Aha-la-ni and Chos talking 
 about Tswane. I asked Chos to listen and tell me 
 what he said while he sung or prayed, I could not 
 tell which. Chos listened a while and looked very 
 sad. Then he said to me, T used to hear the white 
 people sing that hymn in the school by the great 
 sea, and it seems to me like one of the echoes in this 
 rincon.' Then he told me in Navajo what the words 
 were. I remember these only : 
 
 ' Thou, O Christ, art all I want; 
 More than all in thee I find; 
 Raise the fallen, cheer the faint. 
 Heal the sick, and lead the blind.' 
 
 Chos said he used to sing it in Navajo when he went 
 down by the shore of the great water all alone." 
 
 "She-ma, She-ma," said Chunda, with tearful 
 eyes, "I will learn to be like the white women, and 
 come back and show my people what they pray 
 and how they live!" 
 
 "Yes! Chunda, learn it for me. Come back to 
 tell me of something better than I have yet known— 
 
 63 
 
Chunda 
 
 something to make my heart lighter and to give me 
 hope !" 
 
 Hedipa dared not say more lest she should betray 
 to the daughter her agony of dread and foreboding 
 that she should not see her loved child again when 
 she should be taken far over the plains behind those 
 mountain ranges which they would see when they 
 had left the canon. 
 
 They had reached a wide basin in the gorge. As 
 they again crossed the stream they ascended a beach 
 of gravel and sand that rose eight or ten feet from 
 the bottom of the cafion. 
 
 On this elevated shelf of land, once an island 
 when the waters filled the rock-girt bay, was a hogan 
 partly surrounded by a few peach trees. In the 
 light of a fire burning before the entrance human 
 forms were flitting in unusual haste at this hour of 
 the night. Hot-si had ridden forward, while Hedipa 
 and Chunda halted on the edge of the level ground. 
 He returned in a cheerful mood, bringing word that 
 another girl was to join the company with her 
 mother. Moved by Redford's pleading at Chin-a-li, 
 she had been easily persuaded by Aha-la-ni and her 
 little band, that had passed up the caiion two hours 
 earlier, to make the sacrifice possible only to a 
 mother in separating herself from a loved child that 
 she might have a higher womanhood. In the mother 
 love lies the possibility of redeeming the most lowly 
 and ignorant. 
 
 Hedipa now rode quickly forward to the hogan, 
 and with hand outstretched to the mother and child 
 
 64 
 
Hedipa 
 
 begged them to come quickly, for Casa Blanca was 
 still a mile away. They both mounted a stout pony, 
 and by half an hour's ride over a trail now smooth 
 and easy for the horses Hedipa and her companions 
 joined the others waiting among the ruins of an 
 ancient village under the cliff of Casa Blanca. 
 
 The white walls of this old castle could be seen 
 sixty feet above them, but it is now an almost inac- 
 cessible dwelling of the past. Those who have 
 climbed to it by ladders and ropes have found its 
 masonry unbroken, its rooms preserved with their 
 cedar vegas still supporting the roof which sheltered 
 the cliff dwellers centuries ago. 
 
 There were a few hurried greetings, and then the 
 three men rode forward, followed by the women 
 and girls as fast as their sure-footed ponies could 
 carry them up the caiion. The clouds were still 
 threatening, and they had twelve miles to ride before 
 they could reach the head of the canon and ascend 
 to the wooded table-land over which they were to 
 travel sixty miles farther to the agency at Fort 
 Defiance. 
 
 These women had kept from the knowledge of 
 those who were so bitterly opposed, their desire to 
 send their daughters to the school, but had timidly 
 confided to Hedipa their purpose when they learned 
 of her interview and appointment with Redford. 
 They had found their girls strangely willing to 
 be separated so long from their people. A divine 
 impulse was moving these simple-hearted chil- 
 dren, of that other fold among the nations, to rescue 
 
 65 
 
Chunda 
 
 them from the bondage of nature worship and the 
 powers of darkness and bring them into the hght of 
 the world's Redeemer. Through the touch of the 
 Great Spirit these women had been unconsciously 
 endued with an heroic spirit. But their hearts some- 
 times took counsel of their fears as they silently rode 
 through the gloom of the canon. The locality was 
 almost sacred to their traditions. The spirits of 
 their ancestors might not be willing to have them 
 break away the ties that held them to their tribal 
 customs and faith. There were ominous sounds 
 around them. The roll of distant thunder came 
 nearer, and the little strip of sky above them 
 lightened up with flashes near the horizon but hid- 
 den from them by the dark cliffs. The company 
 quickened their pace as they entered another great 
 basin near the head of the cafion. It was the most 
 wonderful part of the gorge, two miles long and 
 half a mile wide. The walls rose to a majestic 
 height capped with thirty or forty distinct peaks and 
 pinnacles of varied shapes. Towers with turrets, 
 palaces with battlements, cathedrals with steeples 
 rise before the traveler as he now looks upon them 
 from that trail. But to these Navajo men and 
 women in the twilight of this stormy morning only 
 the boldest peaks stood out against the angry sky. 
 The drops of rain began to fall from the heavy 
 clouds rolling swiftly over them. The glare of the 
 lightning became almost blinding. The thunder- 
 claps reverberating in the gorge behind them seemed 
 to have opened the flood barriers of the sky as the 
 
 66 
 
Hedipa 
 
 Navajos rode into a cave, a curiosity wrought by 
 the elements in the isolated cliff, rising at the inter- 
 section of the main cafion with a shorter one through 
 which runs the trail leading out to the uplands. 
 
 This was their chosen hiding place for the day till 
 they could be sure they were not followed by their 
 angry relatives. It was with a feeling of relief that 
 they rode into the recesses of the cavern from the 
 fury of the storm. The women soon lighted a fire 
 with pinon wood taken from the clefts, where it had 
 been stored for such emergencies. Their blankets 
 were laid out on the rocky floor, and while Hot-si 
 and one of the men watched near the entrance of 
 the cave against surprise by hostile pursuers the 
 rest sought to sleep away their fatigue in the early 
 morning hours. 
 
 The sun was shining brightly ere the forenoon 
 was ended. The women had finished their meal of 
 maize flakes and peach sauce cooked in an earthen 
 pot, drawn from one of the crevices of the cave, 
 with water taken from the turbid stream rippling by 
 their place of refuge. As no effort had been made 
 to follow them, they concluded that their absence was 
 noticed only as a visit up the canon or for the inspec- 
 tion of their flocks of sheep feeding on the mesa. 
 
 But the sense of fear which impels one forward in 
 escaping from an unseen foe now yielded to depres- 
 sion in the women. They went out of the cavern 
 one by one lest the others should perceive their 
 sorrow. They crossed the stream and looked back 
 upon the sheltering cliff. Its strange shape attracted 
 
 67 
 
Chunda 
 
 their attention as never before. Looking down to 
 tlie main gorge, they saw the pillar of El Capitan as 
 it rises three hundred feet into the sky, like some 
 mighty god of their tribe guarding the abode of the 
 spirits of their people. It looked down upon the 
 cliffs in which was their sheltering cave. These 
 seem to rise like the gigantic figure of a mother; 
 her shoulders and bosom bared to the sky, to which 
 her face was turned in agony, while her outstretched 
 arms enfolded in despairing embrace on each side 
 figures of lovely maiden daughters fallen in agon- 
 ized shapes of death upon the mother's lap and at 
 her feet. This carving by mighty floods, and the 
 winds and frosts of ages unknown, seemed to ex- 
 press their own fears, and helpless wailing and 
 laments broke out from one and then another. 
 Hedipa alone was calm, and her voice hushed them. 
 "Women," she said, "you are yielding to the 
 tempting spirit of evil. The Navajo god does not 
 thus teach us by senseless rocks the future of our 
 children. No, my sisters, the courage of a good 
 purpose must not thus fall before the dread of our 
 woman hearts and our thoughts of loneliness and 
 sorrow. By our hopeful faces and cheerful words 
 let us make the hearts of our daughters strong. 
 The rain god and the sun god have both spoken to 
 us that our children shall return to us as they have 
 returned to bless the land. Let us dry our tears and 
 hide our foolish grief. Come! we must ride today 
 to the cliff of the eagle, on yonder mesa, before the 
 sun has set." 
 
 68 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE ANCIENT NAVAJO 
 
 Redford and Parker returned toward the trading 
 post at Chin-a-li before the Navajos had dispersed 
 from the rincon dance. Redford had measured the 
 strength of the associations which bound them to 
 the traditions of their ancestors. He was deeply 
 impressed with the steadfastness of these children 
 of nature, and was strengthened in an opinion, early 
 formed, that if, by wise and patient training, they 
 could be freed from these superstitions they might 
 be as strong in the qualities of good American citi- 
 zenship as they were now in their barbarism. 
 
 It was not easy to ride down the canon in that 
 dark and stormy night, for their horses were not 
 familiar with the trail, and the presence in this 
 tortuous gorge of so many strange Navajos from 
 all parts of the reservation added to the peril of the 
 lonely ride. But Redford pushed forward through 
 the gloom with only occasional inquiries of his guide 
 to break the silence of the way, so intently was he 
 estimating the Navajo character which had unfolded 
 to his study in the incidents of these few days in 
 this majestic canon. 
 
 The post trader had pitched a tent for his guests 
 under the first high bluff at Chin-a-H, in a recess 
 some distance from the trail. There Redford and 
 
 69 
 
Chunda 
 
 his guide spent the night undisturbed in a deep and 
 refreshing sleep. Early the next morning Parker 
 went for the road horses, which had been taken to 
 pasture six miles away, and for two or three hours 
 Redford had promised himself the luxury of an 
 undisturbed review of the recent events which were 
 leading up to his cherished purpose. The exhilarat- 
 ing air and a restful sleep had dispelled weariness, 
 and he was in full accord with the wonderful aspects 
 of nature around him, glorified by the light of the 
 brilliant day that was casting every moment into 
 deeper shadows and more vivid shapes the crevices 
 and cliffs of the lofty walls of the canon. 
 
 The scenes of savage life which had been passing 
 here for three or four centuries began to move 
 across his vision. He longed to gather up the stories 
 of revelry, of strife and of romantic love that Time's 
 pencil had recorded on those black crags and those 
 massive strata whose faces were worn smooth by 
 wind and rain, and ancient floods. As his fancy 
 grew he wished for the presence of some spirit of 
 the canon to tell him the weird tales, or, at least, 
 to give him some definite history of this people that 
 now held this heritage of extinct tribes. 
 
 He was awakened from these reveries by the 
 sight of a group of five or six horsemen riding 
 toward his tent from the trading post. Two Nava- 
 jos on a powerful horse attracted his close attention 
 as they drew near. The others dismounted and with 
 kindly salutations entered the tent. 
 
 Chos, one of the double riders, with his com- 
 70 
 
THE ANCIENT NAVAJO 
 
The Ancient Navajo 
 
 panion, an old and grizzled Navajo, remained on 
 the horse that had borne them more slowly across 
 the shingle and over the stony arroyo in front of 
 the tent. 
 
 "Buenos dias, senor," said Chos, 'T have brought 
 the ancient Navajo to talk a while with the messen- 
 ger from Washington." 
 
 Redford returned the salutation, and cominer for- 
 ward extended his hand to the old man, w^io had 
 now dismounted. He was nearly blind, but his 
 once stalwart frame was quite erect, and he grasped 
 Redford's hand and courteously embraced him, then 
 leisurely squatted on the ground within the tent. A 
 pouch of tobacco was at once put into his hand, and 
 the old man fumbled at his belt for his cigarette 
 folders of dried husks. Redford handed him a 
 match, and for a few^ moments the Navajo puffed 
 in silence, while Chos engaged in a talk with Red- 
 ford, describing the effect upon the Navajos of the 
 address he had made a few days before at Chin-a-li. 
 The old man, he said, had listened with eagerness 
 to his appeal and desired to speak to him of his 
 people. 
 
 "Herrera," said Chos, "has lived one hundred and 
 ten years, and knows all the traditions of the Na- 
 vajos." 
 
 "Ah," said Redford, "he is most welcome. In 
 what part of the reservation does he live ?" 
 
 "Herrera is the special care of the whole tribe," 
 replied Chos. "The young men contend each year 
 for the honor of caring for him, for he has seen 
 
 71 
 
Chunda 
 
 nearly all their fathers who have died, and does 
 not tire of telling them the deeds of their warriors, 
 which stir their hearts to courage. They think it 
 pleases the spirits of their ancestors to treat him 
 kindly and to give him food and shelter in their 
 hogans." 
 
 "Herrera," said Redford, turning to the old Na- 
 vajo as Chos interpreted his words, "I would gladly 
 learn from you the story of your tribe. There are 
 many white men who would like to know about 
 the oldest people in this country, and the Great 
 Father at Washington keeps many men in search of 
 the histories of all these Indian tribes. How long 
 have the Navajos been in this land?" 
 
 "Senor," answered the Ancient, 'T am an old 
 man. Three hundred years my people have been 
 here. There used to be many more Navajos than 
 now." 
 
 "From what country did they come to these 
 plains?" 
 
 "From beyond those mountains," pointing to the 
 north, "and from the sunrising." 
 
 "Were they great warriors?" 
 
 "They were many and strong. None could with- 
 stand the Dinne who remained near here. But 
 others went everywhere, far to the South, and 
 roamed from the great waters in the West — Tool- 
 che-air and Kay-eel-chow — to the country beyond 
 the great river Kayee (Rio Grande)." 
 
 "Did they ever live in the houses of mud and 
 stone?" 
 
 72 
 
The Ancient Navajo 
 
 "No, senor, they ever wandered from one country 
 to another, and took the nahla (maize) which 
 the house people grew upon their lands, and carried 
 away their cotton cloth and blankets. Then they 
 hunted deer and antelope and buffalo, and had 
 much meat, for these were plenty among the moun- 
 tains and on the mesas." 
 
 "Did the Navajos find here, when they came, the 
 people that lived in these caves?" 
 
 "No, sefior, the cave houses were as you see them 
 when they came to this canon. The people had 
 gone. The traditions of my people say that they 
 must ha\'e died by great winds and by famine when 
 there was no rain to give them nahla, and no deer 
 or antelope to kill in the woodlands." 
 
 "What was the name of the ancient Navajos?" 
 Redford asked, with increasing interest. 
 
 The Ancient lifted his head higher, as he saw the 
 purpose of this question : 
 
 "Our people in the far North were called Ten- 
 neh, and our name is like it now. We call our- 
 selves Dinne when we speak in our own tongue." 
 
 "Were the Apaches your kindred, too?" 
 
 "They were our brothers of the same great 
 family. They broke away in bands, and hunted 
 buffalo and antelope on the plains, and made war 
 upon the Pueblos until the white men came. Their 
 language is much the same after many years, and 
 their name is changed to N'Day. Far out upon the 
 eastern plains they were called Tindau." 
 
 "Were the Navajos great warriors?" asked Red- 
 73 
 
Chunda 
 
 ford, perceiving his jealousy of the fame of the 
 Apache peoples in war. 
 
 "My people," said the Ancient, "were always first 
 and in greater numbers than the Apaches. They 
 never gave the Pueblos rest for a long time, but 
 attacked their villages and seized their women and 
 children to make of them wives and warriors in the 
 tribe." 
 
 "Did they live only by these raids?" said Red- 
 ford. 
 
 "As now, they brought water from the streams 
 to make maize and melons and beans grow as you 
 have seen at Chin-a-li." 
 
 "But did they not, also, produce cotton and have 
 flocks of sheep and make their clothing by weav- 
 ing?" 
 
 "They killed much game," said the Ancient, "and 
 liked better to wear the skins of deer and buffalo, 
 until the Pueblos taught them how to make blankets 
 by weaving wool from the sheep they captured." 
 
 "But why did not your people conquer and de- 
 stroy all the Pueblos, if you were so powerful ?" 
 
 "Seiior," said the Ancient, "they would never 
 make war as one people, nor obey one chief long 
 enough. They had many clans, and many chiefs, 
 men who would not join together to destroy all the 
 Pueblo tribes. There is no highest chief among us, 
 and the young men may oppose and defy any chief. 
 The Navajos wished to rob the Pueblos of their 
 crops and their clothing. It was easier than to work 
 in the fields or at weaving for themselves, until the 
 
 74 
 
The Ancient Navajo 
 
 white men came from the South, and then long after 
 from the East, and drove our people back to their 
 own country and forced them to keep at peace with 
 the Pueblos." 
 
 "Tell me of your religion, Herrera. Do your 
 people worship one god or many gods ?" 
 
 "Senor, the Navajos pray much to the Sun and 
 to the Moon, because there is a being in the Sun 
 and one in the Moon. The Shamans call them the 
 Sun Father and the Moon Mother. They have two 
 children, Masena and Oyo-ya-na, who make the 
 rain to fall and whom we honor in our dances. And 
 there are spirits of the clouds, Shi-na-na, who give 
 us good seasons for our field crops and our flocks. 
 And the Shamans teach us to pray to the great war- 
 riors, their fathers, whose spirits are in the bears 
 and in the snakes, and in the trees and in the stones. 
 We pray to some spirits because they are bad, and 
 to drive them away from hurting us, and we wor- 
 ship spirits that are good because they can help us." 
 
 "But is there not some great God over all these ?" 
 again asked Redford, with a great longing to hear 
 him confess to a belief in the Father of all, toward 
 whom these people were reaching up in their faith. 
 
 "The Shamans have told us of the Navajo god 
 who is a woman and controls our future lives. She 
 has power over the Great Alarsh beyond the lake 
 in the underworld to which our spirits return. 
 There the good Navajos must go to join their 
 fathers and mothers. But she will not open the 
 way to let a bad Navajo go back to his ancestors." 
 
 75 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 Rcdford had risen to his feet to hear this reply, 
 but sat down again disappointed. He turned the 
 thoughts of the Ancient back to the present condi- 
 tion of his people. 
 
 *'Why do you not dwell in houses like the Pueblos, 
 Herrera ?" 
 
 "The customs of a people follow from what they 
 do," said the Ancient. "There is no more hunting 
 for deer and buffalo, and even the birds are few. 
 The people have learned to raise sheep on these 
 plains, and the men must have horses, and they 
 pass from one pasturage to another with their 
 flocks and herds, and in summer they seek the places 
 by the streams for their corn planting, and so they 
 live in wickiups or tepees. In winter they dwell 
 in hogans upon the uplands, w-here the trees shelter 
 and warm them." 
 
 "Why do the Navajos fear the Shamans so much, 
 Herrera?" asked Redford, cautiously approaching 
 a subject which might involve him in future 
 peril. 
 
 "The Shaman is taught by the elders how to cure 
 sickness and overcome the effects of evil spirits in 
 all diseases. The youth who devotes himself to the 
 life of a Shaman must learn from other Shamans 
 for a year, and separate himself from his tribe, 
 keeping long watches by night and day, without 
 food, in the highest places of the mountains and 
 cliffs. The spirits talk to him in dreams. They 
 teach him the future of children and what names 
 they shall give to mothers for their babes. The 
 
 76 
 
The Ancient Navajo 
 
 Shaman learns how to heal different parts of the 
 body, and the uses of leaves and roots and charms 
 for medicine. Their songs and dances expel the 
 spirits from bodies of the sick, and they prepare 
 the warrior for battle, and the sick for their dying 
 by hearing their confessions. So they protect the 
 warriors from their enemies by their prayers and 
 bring victory in battle." 
 
 "But do not the Navajos like the houses which 
 the Great Father's men have taught them how to 
 build?" 
 
 "Sefior, according to the customs of the tribe, 
 they must be destroyed when one dies in one of 
 them. Why, then, is it good for the Navajo?" 
 
 Redford did not wish to discuss the customs of 
 the tribe, and turned his thoughts away to other 
 memories of his people. 
 
 "Herrera, have not the Navajos had many wars 
 in this cafion?" 
 
 "Yes,senor,the Dinne have fought here with the 
 Americans many times. Ten years ago, they were 
 conquered again and again. My people were hunted 
 like deer over these plains and through these canons. 
 The warriors of the Great Father were too strong 
 for the Navajos, who fled to these caves and hid in 
 these rincons, but when the thunder of their great 
 guns died away in these gorges there was no 
 heart left in our people. The older men had been 
 killed, the women and children and the flocks were 
 captured and driven away ; the peach orchards were 
 cut down, and for those who were hidden among 
 
 77 
 
Chunda 
 
 these rocks there was Httle to eat but the roots and 
 pinon nuts on these trees." 
 
 The ancient Navajo long and sadly looked upon 
 the ground in silence. 
 
 "What did the soldiers do with their captives?" 
 at last Redford ventured to ask. 
 
 "They took them over the mountains by a long 
 and hard trail to Bosque. Many other captives were 
 gathered there from the Apache tribes. But in the 
 long journey our people died, sick with fevers and 
 frozen with cold. Their bodies were dropped by the 
 side of the trail. Mothers were parted from their 
 children, and parents sank down exhausted to die, 
 away from the home of their mothers and fathers 
 among these mountains." 
 
 "Do you remember, Ancient," said Redford ten- 
 derly, "when the Navajos came back?" 
 
 "Ah, yes, senor, we had wagons and horses then 
 to bring us. The way was short, for the people 
 were glad. How happy we were to see these moun- 
 tains and plains once more, and be near to the 
 spirits of our fathers!" 
 
 The old Navajo was agitated already by the 
 recital of his people's wrongs, and Redford would 
 not prolong the interview. 
 
 As he rose to his feet Redford asked the Ancient 
 if he could give him something useful in return for 
 this valued conversation. 
 
 The old man replied that his sight was nearly 
 gone and his teeth were worn out, so that he could 
 not chew his food. He would like a knife that 
 
 78 
 
The Ancient Navajo 
 
 would cut his food into small pieces. Redford 
 quickly drew from his belt a sheath knife mounted 
 with silver, and gave it to Herrera. The old man 
 touched the keen blade with his fingers, and his 
 face lighted up with pleasure. 
 
 "Gracias, seiior. Muchas gracias," he said, and 
 slipping it down in the leggin of his moccasin 
 mounted the horse which Chos held firmly till he 
 was seated; then, leaping to his saddle in front of 
 the old man, they rode away with an "Adios" just 
 as the guide drove up from the trading post with the 
 buckboard packed for the return to Fort Defiance. 
 
 79 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 A RIDE TO FREEDOM 
 
 The September sun was falling behind the high 
 mesa which overhangs the site of Fort Defiance 
 agency, in the Navajo reservation, as Redforcl and 
 Parker descended into the gorge through which the 
 Red Bonito rushes over a bottom rugged with 
 bowlders and ledges. The narrow trail which runs 
 along the sides of the canon is cut out of the rock, 
 and was so narrow for the buckboard that scarcely 
 two inches from the wheels, in some places, the 
 steep declivity descended to the roaring stream. A 
 single uncertain step of the horses or an undue 
 swaying of the buckboard would have hurled it 
 with horses, passengers and freight to the cruel 
 rocks below. 
 
 Redford hardly drew breath as they crossed 
 these dangerous ridges, but, with an instinct of 
 some good turn to his adventures awaiting him, he 
 did not doubt that he would escape the peril. The 
 long drive through mesa parks and over plains girt 
 with brightly colored buttes, and mountain ranges 
 brilliant in the transparent air and sheen of a daz- 
 zling sky, had invigorated his spirit and filled it with 
 hope. As they drove over the bridges near the 
 agency a lovely girl of twenty years on a chestnut 
 pony rode up joyfully to greet his return. Her dark 
 
A Ride to Freedom 
 
 brown eyes sparkled with delight and a pure-toned, 
 cheery voice rung out its welcome : 
 
 "Oh, papa, how glad I am that you are safely 
 here! And such wonderful luck! Why, papa, the 
 women have been coming all day into the agency 
 with their girls riding behind them and eager for 
 the school. Fifteen little ones of all ages have been 
 reported to the agent by their mothers. He showed 
 me to every one of them, and I was so happy I could 
 hardly keep my dignity, for they know that I am to 
 be the teacher of their children, and when they had 
 looked me over about a minute they came up to me 
 and squeezed my hands, and then tossed a sprinkle 
 of yellow powder on me. Ugh ! I was a sight 
 before they got through with me, but I laughed and 
 smiled, and they were satisfied at this, which they 
 thought a good sign. And this evening, papa, not 
 half an hour ago, three squaws came in with a 
 young chief and three larger girls from Eagle Cliff. 
 They told Major Culvert, the agent, that your words 
 at Chin-a-li and in the canon had made them want to 
 try the school for their daughters, but they had to 
 come away in the night, because some of the Nava- 
 jos were angry. One of these girls is the most 
 beautiful creature I have seen on this reservation. 
 Her black eyes glisten like coals with fun and mis- 
 chief, her beauty carries your heart away, and her 
 face looks so honest and intelligent that I am sure 
 she will be a treasure for our school. Then she 
 rides a pony with a grace that makes me hide my 
 eyes with shame over my exploits with this awkward 
 
 8i 
 
Chunda 
 
 jumpy nag on that agency plaza. Oh, papa, I am so 
 happy for you! This trip is going to be a great 
 fetch, after all !" 
 
 The lovely girl stopped fairly out of breath with 
 her breezy talk, but rode up to the buckboard and 
 bent down to kiss her father, whose words of greet- 
 ing were as cheery as her own. 
 
 "Gertrude, you are the dearest girl in the world 
 to bring me such good news. I am sure the good 
 angels have fought for us with the evil spirits of 
 this old reservation. God be praised ! It looks like 
 success at last with these Navajos ! What have you 
 been doing, Gertrude, while I have been gone?" 
 
 "Why, you see, papa, I knew that you needed the 
 goodwill of Major Culvert, and we have his wife 
 and himself our devoted friends already." 
 
 "How did my little girl ever do that?" 
 
 "Why, we transformed the agency schoolroom 
 into a dressmaking establishment and the laundry 
 room into a Turkish bath. And all the agency 
 women employees have been sewing, and the hos- 
 pital nurse and cook have begun the work of godli- 
 ness with these girls by scrubbing them and fitting 
 that boxful of clothes we brought here to them. 
 Papa, they are the funniest lot of little Indian maids 
 we have ever had come to us. They are as pretty 
 as black-eyed Susans, every one, but they look like 
 tiger lilies in a china vase, in those light calico 
 aprons. But they are all eager for your coming, 
 and to get away to the railroad. I have been talk- 
 ing to them with the aid of the school-teacher, who 
 
 82 
 
A Ride to Freedom 
 
 interpreted for me. We brought them all together 
 in the schoolroom when they were dressed, and 
 then the mothers came in and stood around the 
 sides of the room looking with smiles and tears on 
 these girls transformed into young Americans. I 
 told them of the railroad ride and the cars and the 
 school in the far East to which they were going, 
 and their little half-scared faces lighted up and 
 their mouths turned and twisted in astonishment. 
 Then I told them a funny story of our dog, Roy, 
 teaching the Pueblo children their body lesson, and 
 they just shouted when they saw their mothers 
 laughing. Really, papa, if you had not come tonight 
 I should have had to start myself with them tomor- 
 row, so impatient they are to go." 
 
 And so the enthusiastic girl ran on with her 
 story, trotting her pony beside the buckboard, while 
 Redford's heart was too deeply moved to ask a 
 question, lest she should stop the strangely stirring 
 description of the influences which, unconsciously to 
 him, had been answering his prayers in the hearts 
 of these superstitious Indians. 
 
 It was now dark when Redford reached the 
 agency, and he hastened to seek an interview with 
 Major Culvert. The immediate departure of the 
 children was necessary, before there should be any 
 hesitation or reaction from the influence of the con- 
 servative part of the tribe, who would soon hear of 
 this astonishing movement among the women to 
 give their girls into the hands of the missionary 
 teacher. 
 
 83 
 
Chunda 
 
 Orders were given that evening for an early start 
 the next morning. Two large covered wagons were 
 prepared with scats and straw for twenty-five per- 
 sons, and provisions for two days were packed in a 
 third wagon. Then the women were called together 
 into the hospital, where the agent, accompanied l)y 
 an interpreter and Redford and his daughter, met 
 them. 
 
 A few hearty handshakes passed between the mis- 
 sionary and these squaws, and then he addressed 
 them in different words from his speech at Chin- 
 a-li. He commended their confidence in the pur- 
 poses of the Washington government and in trusting 
 himself, who was seeking only good things for 
 their children. Then he minutely explained to them 
 how their girls could be cared for, what they would 
 wear, how they would sleep, and learn to provide 
 their own food and make their own garments, and 
 what they would study in books to make them wise 
 enough to live as American children and become 
 like American wives and mothers among their own 
 people in this country to which they should return. 
 
 Redford especially promised his own care and 
 that of faithful teachers like his daughter, whom 
 they had already begun to know; so that, if their 
 lives were preserved, in three years they should 
 return to them. Meanwhile, he would each year 
 bring them pictures of their children and describe 
 their progress at school. 
 
 Major Culvert confirmed the statements of the 
 missionary, and the mothers, whose faces had grown 
 
 84 
 
A Ride to Freedom 
 
 grave and tearful under this talk, departed with 
 lightened hearts to their neighboring cabins. 
 
 The sun's rays were first shooting across the 
 plaza from the ridge on the east when the children, 
 who had slept in care of the teachers, after an early 
 breakfast, were packed into the wagons at the 
 schoolroom door. Hurried partings were given to 
 their parents, and in the silence that followed the 
 word was given to start, while the people stood 
 watching the departure from every door of the 
 plaza. 
 
 Not a sound was heard from the wagons as they 
 passed behind the agency buildings. The Indian 
 mothers leaped upon their ponies and followed them, 
 riding up from time to time to look into the wagons 
 and say a cheery word in Navajo, and then, after a 
 few miles were passed, dropping behind, one by one, 
 to leave the wagon road and follow the trails to their 
 scattered hogans on the reservation. 
 
 The drive to the railroad station at Manuelito 
 was ended by noon, and the happy girls, pleased 
 with the novelty of their situation and sustained by 
 their numbers, were stowed away with their provi- 
 sions in a Santa Fe railroad tourist car which was 
 W'aiting for them at that station on a side track, so 
 great had been Redford's faith that he would accom- 
 plish his mission to these Navajos. They found also 
 five boys of sixteen to eighteen years waiting by the 
 railroad for permission of the teacher to go to the 
 Eastern school by the sea of which he had told 
 them. Among these was Hot-si, whose earnest, 
 
 85 
 
Chunda 
 
 determined face would allow no refusal. Redford 
 soon consented to take them to San Gabriel and 
 from there to dispose of them after communication 
 with the government; for this had been ordered by 
 Major Culvert the night before, after learning the 
 intention of the boys. 
 
 As the miles increased between the children and 
 the life to which they could never return, a loneli- 
 ness crept over them inexplicable to themselves. 
 Gertrude's watchful eyes detected, during that two 
 days' journey, the first signs of homesickness, and 
 her lovely face soothed their rising grief and 
 strangely fascinated their tender hearts. It was all 
 a dream to the girls. A white-faced angel seemed 
 ever to move among them, to provide their food, 
 give them a gentle caress, or dispel their tears with 
 a bright and happy song. The strains of her guitar 
 were often heard amid the rumbling and rattling of 
 the cars, to divert their thoughts and arouse won- 
 dering questions of the life which they were to enter 
 among strangers. 
 
 86 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 RETURNED AND RELEASED 
 
 It is early in May. Three years ago the wagons 
 laden with Navajo children were driven out of the 
 plaza of Fort Defiance. Today they will return to 
 their parents. The word of the missionary will not 
 be broken. It is an event which awakens interest 
 in remote parts of the reservation. A great council 
 of the principal men has been called by the agent. 
 All night the Navajos have been coming by diverse 
 trails from Chin-a-li, from the Tunicha Mountains, 
 from Ganado Mucho's band, and from the region of 
 the San Juan. Major Culvert finds it a favorable 
 opportunity to interest them in projects for the. 
 improvement of their condition. It will, perhaps, 
 lead them to favor home education when the effects 
 of school life abroad on the daughters of their tribe 
 shall be manifested in the returned pupils. i 
 
 Their departure has given rise to many discus- 
 sions in the smoky hogans as in the light of pifion 
 knots they have passed the long winter evenings, or 
 as they have gathered for their spring and autumn 
 dances and to the annual harvesting of the peach 
 orchards. 
 
 The Shamans have always been active in these 
 talks. They have, by their personal influence, 
 formed a strong conservative party to oppose the 
 
 87 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 further education of their people; for their tribal 
 customs, their religion, the honor of their ancestors, 
 the preservation of their nation from the inroads of 
 the white men, are all concerned with this movement 
 to educate their youth. So they have aroused the 
 dominant prejudices of the older men and of the 
 youth, who see their own importance diminished and 
 their prospective marriages delayed and hindered, 
 if not made impossible, by the education of the 
 girls. 
 
 But the women are now at the head of the radical 
 party. They are property holders and decide as to 
 the disposal of their daughters. They would like 
 to change Navajo vagrancy to a home life that will 
 foster domestic comforts and virtues well-nigh im- 
 possible in their present mode of living. Men who 
 have faith in the wisdom of their wives or mothers 
 are now disposed to uphold them. They are out- 
 spoken for a trial of something new. A spirit of 
 discontent is spreading through the reservation. 
 The nearer approach of cattle ranches and mining 
 settlements excites alarm. 
 
 The men have noticed the change of rifles and 
 cannon at Fort Wingate to a new and deadly pat- 
 tern. The United States soldiers will be still more 
 to be feared in a conflict. The utensils, tools and 
 equipments brought to the agency for the annual 
 distribution are more skillfully made. They feel 
 the rapid improvement going on in the communi- 
 ties of wdiite men, and they are shrewd enough to 
 know that education of the hand as well as of the 
 
 88 
 
Returned and Released 
 
 head is its cause, for they know that the white man's 
 better skilled workmen in silver and iron, in weav- 
 ing and sewing, are quick-witted and long-trained. 
 
 So the questions of hogans or houses, wagons or 
 saddles, bows and shotguns or Winchester rifles, 
 cattle or sheep, wool clips or cotton balls, books or 
 amulets, schools or dances, have been in frequent 
 debate for several years, and they have been dis- 
 cussed with unusual animation in the council today, 
 which occupied the forenoon. 
 
 The agency plaza is now a lively scene. Two 
 hundred men and women are sitting on their rest- 
 less horses or strolling about buildings. They seem 
 to have taken unusual care with their gaudy clothing 
 and trappings. Their cheeks and brows are covered 
 with paints, and they wear their best blankets and 
 buckskins. Few are armed, for the council and 
 the visit to the agency is for peaceful measures, and 
 to greet the daughters of their tribe. 
 
 The sun was past the meridian when the wagons, 
 accompanied by thirty or forty Navajo horsemen, 
 drove into the plaza. Redford, on a strong gray 
 horse, rode by the side of the first wagon, and with 
 him on a black pony was a young woman of twenty 
 years. Her appearance at once attracted the Nava- 
 jos. Tall, graceful in her bearing as she sat upon 
 her horse, her dark eyes surveyed with quiet dignity 
 the strange scene. Her cheeks burned by the sun 
 to a bright color set off her rich brown skin, while 
 dark auburn hair hung in long braids at her back. 
 Unconscious of the evident surprise and admiration 
 
 89 
 
Chunda 
 
 of the Navajos as they entered the gateway of the 
 plaza, the lovely girl turned to Redford and ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 "Three years ago Gertrude took into her charge 
 these children whom we are now returning to their 
 parents. How strange that I should come back 
 with you to show these people the results of her 
 faithful work and never-ceasing care!" 
 
 "Yes, Margaret, while you, my child, reap today, 
 in the admiration of these people, what she has so 
 diligently sown, you well may believe that she has 
 wrought in their characters a greater work of art 
 than ever painter's brush or sculptor's chisel could 
 produce. But we have enough to do now." 
 
 He stopped his horse and dismounted, handing 
 the bridle rein to a Navajo boy who stood near, as 
 he went forward to greet Major Culvert. Then, 
 turning to the Navajos riding toward him, he 
 greeted them : 
 
 "Buenos dias, amigos! Buenos dias, sefioras!" 
 in clear, hearty tones. 
 
 "Buenos!" "Buenos!" "Buenos dias, senor!" 
 '"Bueno Hombre!" "How!" "How!" "Esta 
 Bueno!" "Amigo!" "Amigo!" cried a hundred 
 voices, while the women smiled their welcome and 
 turned their eyes again to the wagons. 
 
 "Your girls are all here, my friends," said Red- 
 ford in Spanish; "all but two whom I told you last 
 year had gone to the good Father above. Come, 
 children," he continued in English, and at a wave 
 of his hand, for which they had impatiently waited, 
 
 90 
 
Returned and Released 
 
 fifteen bright, hearty girls, in comely navy blue 
 suits and white sailor hats, leaped to the ground. 
 
 For a moment the Navajo women looked with 
 astonishment, not daring to break the spell of the 
 wistful glances returned to them. 
 
 Then a mother darted forward and seized a tall 
 girl of fifteen by the hand. 
 
 "She-nal-le !" she cried, looking eagerly into her 
 face, and then, quietly putting her arm around her 
 waist, led her away. 
 
 So one and another came forward, calling the 
 girls by their Navajo names, and taking them to 
 their embraces with silent tears or with their dark 
 eyes flashing with pride and joy. 
 
 But the dread of this meeting had entered many 
 of those young hearts before they began their jour- 
 ney. In some of them fear had dispelled the once- 
 expected joy of recognition, fear lest their mothers 
 should seem strange and hateful to them. 
 
 But one thought in all their school life had been 
 faithfully impressed upon them. They were to go 
 back as helpers as well as reformers, and in loving 
 sympathy with their mothers show them the ways 
 of a Christian household, and persuade their 
 brothers and husbands, when they should marry, to 
 learn the arts of the Americans. 
 
 "What shall we do," they had often asked, "when 
 we go back to living in a hogan ? If we can do noth- 
 ing more, at least w-e will have it clean." 
 
 "We will make as good bread as we do here." 
 
 "We will cook the meat as in this kitchen." 
 91 
 
Chunda 
 
 "We will dress our children as we now dress our 
 dolls." 
 
 "We will make the blankets clean, if we have to 
 wear them." 
 
 "We will have our faces and our bodies clean, if 
 we do live in a hogan." 
 
 "We will teach our children, if we cannot show 
 our mothers, how to live as we do now." 
 
 Such had been the expressions in many a girlish 
 talk at school, and on the long journey back to the 
 reservation. 
 
 Will the little leaven cast into this lump of savage 
 custom and inherited tendencies ever leaven the 
 whole mass ? What has been accomplished in a few 
 is possible for the whole tribe. 
 
 One of the scholars looked in vain for the loved 
 face of her mother. We already know her better 
 than the others — Chunda, the daughter of Hedipa, 
 who three years ago had been the cheeriest and hap- 
 piest of all the little company that left the agency. 
 She had been the same sweet and enlivening char- 
 acter in the school, and dearer than all others to the 
 teachers, who had watched with pride her rapid 
 progress in every study. 
 
 Now, of all her mates, she is the most disap- 
 pointed. Recognizing a woman from Chin-a-li, she 
 asked for Hedipa. 
 
 "She waits for you in the Canon de Chelly. She 
 was too ill to ride to meet 3^ou." 
 
 Chunda hastened to her teacher and told him of 
 her grief. 
 
 93 
 
Returned and Released 
 
 "We will start tomorrow with you for the cafion," 
 said Redford. "I have heard that your mother is 
 very ill, but we will hope to greet her once more." 
 
 By daylight, next morning, a wagon stood at the 
 door of the agency office, well packed with provi- 
 sions and provender for the horses. Another with 
 two seats was waiting at the schoolroom door for 
 the agent and Chunda and the matron of Fort Defi- 
 ance School, with Nesito, a Navajo schoolboy, for 
 interpreter. Two riding horses were led by a herder 
 on his own pony. Redford and Margaret, already 
 mounted, greatly refreshed by the night's sleep in 
 the rarefied air that encircled Fort Defiance, held the 
 bridles of their restless horses, giving the last 
 directions. 
 
 The party started as the sun was climbing above 
 the eastern ridge. The first day's ride of forty miles 
 to Ganado Mucho ranch, through a grassy park of 
 pines and scrub oaks, was one of rare beauty. They 
 camped at noon for dinner amid flowers strange 
 in shape and color ; and the shadows of clouds above 
 the tall pines, as they rode through the sunlit parks, 
 seemed to promise the protection of the loving 
 Father whose children they were seeking in this 
 wilderness. 
 
 A night at Pueblo Colorado, where the hospi- 
 tality of an American trader was freely extended, 
 prepared them for another long and hot day's ride 
 over an open plain. When they camped at night 
 they were still twenty miles from Chin-a-li, and it 
 was two o'clock of the third day of their journey 
 
 93 
 
Chunda 
 
 when they rested for dinner in the shadow of the 
 rocks beneath which Redford had received, three 
 years before, the visit of the ancient Navajo. There 
 the wagons were left, and the party, now all 
 mounted, pressed on up the Canon de Chelly. 
 
 Near a hogan at the edge of the peach orchards 
 they halted at sundown. Chunda hastened to dis- 
 mount and ran eagerly toward the humble cabin. 
 She entered it, and in the dim light saw a hand 
 stretched forth from a pile of blankets. A low, 
 hesitating voice greeted her in Navajo, and the 
 mother's speech needed no interpreter for the 
 daughter. 
 
 "Chunda, She-nal-le! You have come to me at 
 last, as the teacher promised. Do you still love 
 your Navajo mother as when she sent you so far 
 away?" 
 
 "She-ma," softly answered Chunda, "you little 
 know my joy to embrace you once more, mother 
 dear. Yes, I am still your own She-nal-le. But, 
 mother, you have changed. Your hand is hot ; your 
 voice is weak; your face is thin and pale. Oh, 
 mother, are you so sick? Have you needed me so 
 long when I have so hastened to return to you, 
 counting the days and hours of this long, long 
 journey ?" 
 
 Hedipa pressed her child to her bosom. 
 
 "She-nal-le, my hours are few to stay with you. 
 Have you been happy in the school ?" 
 
 "Mother," replied Chunda, "I have learned every 
 day what I thought would make you glad to know 
 
 94 
 
Returned and Released 
 
 and see, and I have longed to tell it to you. How 
 many things I have treasured for you! and when 
 you are stronger I will spend days in telling you 
 all." 
 
 "Chunda, I shall never hear them from your lips. 
 This pain I feel is fast taking me away." 
 
 "No ! No ! Mother dear, hear me. I cannot give 
 you up, even to our heavenly Father, now that I 
 have come back. Have you the faith you told me to 
 learn? Have you learned to love our Saviour?" 
 
 Hedipa waited for strength to speak. At length 
 she began with difficulty. 
 
 "Never have I forgotten the w^ords the teacher 
 sang. Chos told them me, in Navajo : 
 
 'Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, 
 Heal the sick and lead the blind.' 
 
 As I have waited these many months, for you to 
 come back, not knowing whether you were sick or 
 well, and my heart has been so empty, so hungry, 
 so faint, I have heard the other words coming to 
 me: 
 
 'Thou, O Christ, art all I want; 
 More than all in thee I find.' " 
 
 Hedipa's lips trembled; she could not go on. 
 
 "Mother," said Chunda, "you have, then, found 
 him near you to comfort you ?" 
 
 "Yes, child, more than I can say !" 
 
 "Then, mother, when you are gone I wish to go 
 back and learn more for my people. I want to heal 
 the sick." Chunda spoke with the deep tone of one 
 whose whole being had found expression in the 
 
 95 
 
Chunda 
 
 words. "She-ma, tell me, if I may go to learn how 
 to comfort and help our people here?" 
 
 "Would you be like the doctor at the agency?" 
 she asked, with surprise. 
 
 "Yes, mother, but I will not leave you, not so 
 long as you will stay. I am come to comfort you 
 now — to nurse you, and pet you as you used to 
 fondle me ; to show you that I love and honor you, 
 She-ma, for the love you had for me when you sent 
 me away to learn the better things." 
 
 Hedipa drew her child's face to hers. Then she 
 closed her eyes and rested. 
 
 As Redford and Margaret were waiting outside 
 of the hogan with a young Navajo woman who had 
 been watching with Hedipa, Margaret noticed 
 standing beside Hedipa's couch a rude frame made 
 of young oak trees. It was a rough loom, and in it, 
 nearly completed, was a finely woven blanket. It 
 was nearly all white, with faint lines of purple run- 
 ning at wide intervals through the texture. It was 
 Hedipa's last work, and the looser threads showed 
 where her fingers had failed to put them firmly in 
 place after the fever had begun to waste her 
 strength. 
 
 Redford entered the hut just as Hedipa turned 
 away her face. He beckoned Chunda to come to 
 him. 
 
 "Is your mother sleeping?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Redford, but her hands are growing 
 cold. Can she be dying?" 
 
 The missionary stepped softly forward toward 
 96 
 
Returned and Released 
 
 the couch. Hedipa had partly turned her head in 
 the effort to breathe more easily, but her lips were 
 motionless. Redford took Chunda's hand and in 
 the dusky light led her to Margaret. 
 
 "My daughter, you must care for this motherless 
 girl as for your own sister. Take her now to yon- 
 der hogan with this young Navajo woman, and 
 ask the older women to come here. But they are 
 afraid of death. You and the matron must prepare 
 Hedipa for the grave. Tomorrow she shall have a 
 Christian burial." 
 
 An hour later Hedipa was lying peacefully on her 
 couch in the dark hogan, shrouded in the white 
 blanket which Margaret had cut from the loom and 
 tenderly wrapped around her. 
 
 97 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 IN THE HOUSE OF HEDIPA 
 
 Near the rincon of the peach orchards, but in 
 the center of the Cafion de Chelly, rises a lofty 
 cathedral-shaped cliff. Its pinnacle, standing two 
 hundred feet in the air, is flanked with lower peaks 
 that form the buttresses of a hollow arched space 
 beneath, where once the waters made a pool far 
 under the rock and gradually widened its bound- 
 aries into a roomy cave, the floor of which is the 
 smooth ledge, and its corrugated walls and ceiling 
 rise, in some places, to a height of thirty feet. 
 
 The red and pale yellow strata of the cliff give a 
 mellow tone to the facade of this chapel thus carved 
 by nature's hand. Under its projecting roof is 
 found shelter from the hot vertical rays which 
 descend at midday from a cloudless sky and from 
 the rains that often pour furiously down into this 
 chasm. 
 
 Redford, after Hedipa's death, had, in his sad- 
 ness, sought this hollowed cliff and prepared it for 
 a mortuary chapel for the first Christian convert in 
 this canon over whom could be said the impressive 
 burial service of the church. 
 
 Far within this chamber of stone, on the farthest 
 wall, is a low projection of the ledge whose grayish 
 sides and top and the wall behind, of a dark pur- 
 
 98 
 
In the House of Hedipa 
 
 plish color, made a sanctuary and an altar with 
 vestments of mourning. The narrow chancel in 
 front of it was paved with mosaics of mottled gray 
 and red, finely wrought without hammer or chisel 
 or human skill. The light streamed in from the 
 west upon a broad aisle between blocks of red sand- 
 stone and stratified white clay. 
 
 At the end of the cliff projecting down the canon 
 is an island of sand covered with low scattered 
 trees of scrub oak and cottonwood. Beneath one 
 of these, in white sand and gravel, could be seen 
 a grave made by Major Culvert's order; and over 
 the heaped-up earth were strewn the leafy branches 
 of oak, with which the sides and bottom of the grave 
 were also lined in dark green. 
 
 From the hogan across the canon the notes of a 
 Christian song are heard, and soon a little group 
 begins to move toward the chapel. Major Culvert, 
 the two agency employees who were drivers of the 
 wagons, and Nesito, the young Navajo interpreter, 
 are the bearers, carrying a bier made of the trunks 
 of two small oak trees interwoven with branches 
 from the peach orchard. On this bier lies Hedipa 
 wrapped in her white woolen shroud, with a cross 
 of oak leaves resting on her bosom and a wreath of 
 pinon twigs and red cactus flowers at her feet. 
 
 The group soon forms into a procession with Red- 
 ford leading, while Margaret walks with Chunda 
 beside her next to the bier. The matron and 
 Hedipa's faithful nurse and friend, Tswane, are just 
 behind them. A company of Navajo squaws follow 
 
 99 
 
CnUNDA 
 
 irregularly, having waited at a distance from the 
 hogan until the procession began to move. These, 
 as they approach the chapel, seat themselves on the 
 side of the canon with twenty or thirty men and 
 children who are watching the strange scene. 
 
 As the bearers came within the shadow of the 
 cathedral rock, Redford, in clear, strong tones, be- 
 gan the service of the church. The walls of the 
 canon caught up the words, 'T am the resurrection 
 and the life;" and as the last sentence was uttered 
 within the chapel, "The Lord gave, and the Lord 
 hath taken away," there came, as an echo from a 
 recess high up in the ceiling, "Blessed be the name 
 of the Lord !" 
 
 Then the minor tones of the chant were sung by 
 Margaret and the matron, with the deeper bass 
 voice of Major Culvert, and the Navajo onlookers 
 drew near and crowded around the chapel entrance. 
 It seemed to them one of their own dirges, but when 
 the lesson with its revelation of Christian hope was 
 read their attention relaxed, and only revived when 
 the plaintive notes of a hymn filled the little chapel 
 and floated out into the canon. 
 
 A prayer was said, the bearers took up their bur- 
 den, and the procession wended its way in the same 
 order as before to the grave. Around this the ex- 
 cited Navajos were gathered. It seemed doubtful 
 if they would permit the body to be lowered to its 
 resting place undisturbed. But the presence of 
 Major Culvert prevented any act of violence, and 
 their murmurings were soothed by the words of 
 
 lOO 
 
In the House of Hedipa 
 
 the committal, though they knew not its glorious 
 meaning. 
 
 As the benediction was pronounced they pressed 
 toward the grave to look down upon the body 
 wrapped in its white mantle lying peacefully upon 
 its bed of leaves. Some of the women turned away 
 with tears, while the men waited to see the mound 
 of earth rise over the last resting place of the woman 
 whose kindly disposition had left an impression even 
 on their rough natures. 
 
 Ever afterward the Navajos called the cathedral 
 rock "The House of Hedipa." 
 
 With hearts moved by their strange surroundings, 
 those who had rendered this Christian service re- 
 turned to the hogan where Hedipa had died. But 
 they found it in ruins. Beside it were a few blankets 
 which had been woven by Hedipa and carried out 
 of the hogan by her friends before the last days of 
 her sickness, to escape the contamination of death. 
 All else had been destroyed with her habitation, 
 and these were Chunda's only inheritance. She 
 stood for a few minutes looking sadly at the ruins, 
 then gathered the blankets in two rolls which she 
 gave to Nesito to fasten to her horse's saddle. 
 
 As Chunda turned away she saw the inmates of 
 the hogan above her, in the peach orchards, looking 
 down upon her. She walked up to them slowly but 
 with firm tread, put out her hand to each, and 
 softly thanked them for their care of her mother. 
 Then, bidding them farewell, she returned to the 
 company below, and coming up to Redford asked : 
 
CllUNDA 
 
 "My teacher and friend, will you take me back 
 with you to school ?" 
 
 "Never to return?" said Redford, in surprise. 
 
 "I will not return," said Chunda, "until I know 
 how to heal these my people with the skill of a 
 white man. Then will I build here, by this orchard, 
 a house for them where the sick shall find shelter 
 and care and comfort. It shall be a memorial to 
 my mother." 
 
 102 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 A woman's rage 
 
 The evening was near when the start was made 
 down the canon to their camp. Chunda's departure 
 left the Navajos in doubt as to what they should do. 
 They were grieved at her decision to return to the 
 East, and without understanding her purpose many 
 were angry. 
 
 In the midst of their discussion Hut-tah arrived, 
 riding furiously down from the north of the Canon 
 de Muerto, a long branch of the main Canon de 
 Chelly. Her hogan was at this time fifty miles 
 away, and she had been informed too late of the 
 death of her kinswoman to be present at her burial. 
 
 The events of the afternoon were hastily described 
 to her, and her displeasure was manifested by many 
 violent exclamations. 
 
 But when Hut-tah asked for Chunda and learned 
 of her return with the missionary she stamped her 
 foot with rage. Her passion at first awed those 
 around her. Then half a dozen men joined with 
 Hut-tah in angry complaints of Chunda's faithless- 
 ness. Two or three squaws were brought into the 
 exciting colloquy, and threats of capturing the white 
 maiden and rescuing Chunda from the hands of the 
 white people were freely made. 
 
 But they were hindered by the fact that Chunda 
 103 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 was in the care of Major Culvert, whose authority, 
 as agent, was absolute, and they did not dare to defy 
 it openly by using- violence in getting possession of 
 the girl while he should be a witness. The results 
 of the recent council of the principal men of the 
 tribe, they well knew, were favorable to the agent, 
 to the missionary and to the efforts of the govern- 
 ment at Washington to change and improve their 
 condition by the gifts of tools and promised aid, if 
 they would build reservoirs and cabins. 
 
 What should they do while yet the girl was within 
 their reach? A few determined Navajos who had 
 separated from the rest decided to follow Hut-tah's 
 counsel, to ride suddenly upon the party ere they 
 reached camp that night, snatch Chunda away, and 
 hide her in the almost inaccessible canon in the 
 Tunicha Mountains where they held the secret coun- 
 cils of the tribe. If their attack was resisted, they 
 were to capture also the missionary's daughter as a 
 hostage. 
 
 Their rage was now turned to savage glee. Hur- 
 rying to a dark rincon, they began a war dance and 
 covered their faces with black paint. 
 
 As they withdrew to the rincon Nesito, left be- 
 hind as a spy by the agent, began to climb the 
 walls of the canon to pluck the red cactus flowers 
 growing in the clefts. Slowly making his way along 
 a ridge toward a projecting cliff where the canon 
 turned, he picked up part of an ancient loom which 
 had been washed out of a crumbling wall that 
 inclosed the remains of the cliff dwellers in a cave 
 
 104 
 
A Woman's Rage 
 
 far above him. Seated on a rock, he busied himself 
 in rejoining the broken pieces till the shadows had 
 grown deeper. 
 
 He could hardly see the opposite walls when he 
 dropped from ledge to ledge to the bed of the stream 
 and ran noiselessly down the cafion to where his 
 pony was tethered and feeding in a patch of 
 meadow. 
 
 It took but a few moments to adjust his bridle 
 and tighten the girth around the saddle blanket. 
 Then mounting quickly he at first rode slowly near 
 the stream, where the sound of his horse's hoofs 
 would be smothered in the sand. But half a mile 
 away he lashed his pony to his swiftest gallop. 
 
 Major Culvert was riding in the rear of his party 
 at a walking pace, for it was now very dark. They 
 had come to a broad place in the cafion, in the 
 midst of which two or three large cottonwoods were 
 growing out of the sandy bottom. There they 
 halted at the sound of a swift rider behind them. 
 
 Nesito beckoned to the agent as he stopped his 
 pony, and in a few words unfolded to him the plot 
 to capture Chunda that night. The agent, thor- 
 oughly angered at the daring scheme, prepared to 
 resist the attack of the Navajos, aided only by a 
 single Indian police soldier whom he had with him, 
 and who, like himself, was well armed. But the 
 next moment a better plan was presented to his 
 mind. He dispatched one of the drivers, who was 
 mounted, to Chin-a-li, and calling Redford to his 
 side told him of the contemplated attack. 
 
 105 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 Margaret and Chunda received the startling in- 
 formation in silence, but while the men were plan- 
 ning for the emergency these girls were busily 
 talking in low, earnest tones to Nesito. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "it is possible. I know the way. 
 If you can keep your heads steady you can climb 
 to the cave and be safe till Major Culvert returns 
 with help." 
 
 "Father," said Margaret, riding up to him, "we 
 will hide in one of the caves of the cliff which Nesito 
 says is just below us, but high up in the sides of the 
 caiion. He climbed to it yesterday and will guide 
 us. Chunda and I will thus be safe in the darkness, 
 while you all hurry on and delay the Navajos till 
 we can be rescued." 
 
 Redford remonstrated at leaving them alone and 
 unprotected. 
 
 "But it must be so, papa," said Margaret. "You 
 cannot possibly climb the steep rock. I saw Nesito 
 do it yesterday, and if you are left here you will 
 surely expose our hiding place to the Navajos." 
 
 "But who will protect you should you be dis- 
 covered ?" 
 
 "We shall be safe," the brave girl replied. "You 
 will need all your authority, with Major Culvert's, 
 to hold the Navajos in check. But there is no time 
 to lose. Major Culvert, is there anything better that 
 we can do?" 
 
 "I don't know a wiser course than this, if you and 
 Chunda have courage to remain and climb the cliff; 
 you must act quickly. Dismount and give us the 
 
 io6 
 
A Woman's Rage 
 
 bridles," he said kindly but firmly. "We must take 
 these horses on with us as a blind to the cursed 
 Navajos, for they will count every hoof print in 
 the sand when they come near us. They will not 
 heed your tracks if you walk in the stream there. 
 You are already stepping into it as you dismount. 
 Don't mind the water, girls, follow Nesito to the 
 other side. There is the cave just opposite to us. 
 We will wait till we hear your signal that you have 
 reached the cave dwelling safely, and then ride on. 
 It will not be more than an hour before we will 
 return. Now, girls," he said cheerily, "keep good 
 hearts till help arrives." 
 
 Thus, as he was helping the girls to dismount and 
 as they were crossing the stream. Major Culvert 
 mingled commands with encouragements to the 
 maidens in their flight. Nesito was leading them, 
 bearing a roll of blankets which he had detached 
 from Chunda's saddle. He carefully trod in the 
 sandy bottom of the stream, whose chilly water was 
 not deep but might cover quicksands. 
 
 The girls reached the other side where the cliff 
 rose at its very edge, and slowly picked their way 
 along the shelving ridge, which made a gradual 
 incline to the first level. 
 
 Then the way became more difficult in the dark- 
 ness. They clung with their hands to the rocks 
 jutting above them. As they crept around the pro- 
 jection of a ledge they might have looked down 
 seventy feet into the water, but they could not, in 
 the dark, measure the height above them. Then 
 
 107 
 
Chunda 
 
 they came to an incline where the rock was smooth 
 and wide up the face of the cHff, and following 
 Nesito almost on a run for a hundred feet, bending 
 forward toward the cliff, they stood at last on the 
 ledge of the cliff dwellings under a great overhang- 
 ing roof of stone. 
 
 They were behind a sharp elevation of the ledge 
 and could not be seen from below, but the walls 
 of the cliff dwellings could be distinguished dimly 
 rising fifty feet from them, if further protection 
 were needed. 
 
 The distant cry of a coyote startled the girls as 
 they sat panting on the rock. It was the signal of 
 Nesito to Major Culvert that they were safely hid- 
 den near the entrance of the cave. 
 
 The cry was answered from the canon below, and 
 immediately the sound of horses galloping down the 
 trail came up to them in their lonely retreat. The 
 hearts of the maidens stopped beating for a moment. 
 They were left alone in the dreary gorge dark as 
 night below them, with a narrow stretch of sky 
 above, and only a boy to defend them from angry 
 Navajos, should their hiding place be revealed. 
 
 But the excitement and exhilaration of the climb 
 had roused their minds to a courage native to the 
 Navajo maiden, and always at command of the self- 
 possessed American girl. The glow of adventure 
 and triumph at outwitting their pursuers made them 
 forget their peril. 
 
 The sound of the horses' hoofs had died away, but 
 
 Margaret and Chunda did not dare to speak aloud, 
 
 1 08 
 
A Woman's Rage 
 
 nor scarcely to whisper, lest the acute ear of some 
 Navajo scout on foot ahead of the hostiles should 
 catch the sound, when even the rustling of a leaf 
 in the still air would be noticed. 
 
 Fifteen minutes passed in this suspense. They 
 only breathed more quickly as the light step of a 
 runner was heard from below. Then another scout 
 passed. Half a dozen horses rapidly followed. 
 They passed the Cottonwood trees. Suddenly they 
 stopped to examine the tracks on the sandy trail. 
 A torch was lighted and waved for a few moments 
 over them and quickly extinguished. The Navajos 
 were evidently satisfied that the party was unbroken 
 and that all were mounted. 
 
 Their keen eyes had also detected a hot trail, for 
 as they proceeded it was more slowly and with 
 greater caution, for they were approaching the bend 
 in the canon, half a mile below where it widened 
 into a hard sandy plain an eighth of a mile wide, 
 their chosen place for the assault. 
 
 Major Culvert and his party were not trying to 
 escape from the Navajos. It was better that they 
 should be overtaken and, with the Navajo maiden 
 out of sight, to preserve the appearance of peace, 
 or, in case violence should be threatened, to keep 
 a bold front until they should receive reinforce- 
 ments. 
 
 They were far enough away from the girls to 
 shield them from suspicion of their hiding place by 
 the Navajos, and they were near enough to ride 
 back quickly to their help when the escort should 
 
 109 
 
Chunda 
 
 arrive. Major Culvert had, therefore, ordered the 
 party to slacken their pace. 
 
 They had not long to wait for their pursuers. A 
 mile below the cave dwelling they were suddenly 
 aware of swift steps behind them. Two or ihree 
 horsemen dashed by them without making salutation 
 or outcry. Two other stalwart savages rode quickly 
 into the party and separated the horses. They 
 looked from one to another for the girls. The ma- 
 tron, whose tall and stout form could not be mis- 
 taken, was the only one of the women visible. They 
 were evidently astonished, but, saluting the agent, 
 they dashed by to join those who had ridden ahead. 
 Ere long they returned, not finding the girls, and 
 asked Major Culvert for Chunda. 
 
 *'Why do you seek her tonight?" said Major Cul- 
 vert sternly. "What are your names?" 
 
 "Father," said the spokesman, the son of Mari- 
 ano, the chief of the eastern portion of the tribe, 
 "we will carry Chunda to her people. Hut-tah 
 demands that she shall dwell with her as her nearest 
 kinswoman." 
 
 "Chunda has told me," said Major Culvert, "that 
 she is alone. She has neither father nor mother, 
 nor uncle nor brother. She can, by your Navajo 
 customs, decide for herself, and she has chosen to 
 go back to school. If you come to the agency in 
 two days you may see her there, but not tonight." 
 
 "Father, you have hidden Chunda and the white 
 maiden away. This man from Washington shall 
 take no more of our girls from the reservation." 
 
A Woman's Rage 
 
 "Mr. Redford will take all that wish to go with 
 him. So the Great Father has said by letter to me. 
 Beware how you resist his will." 
 
 "We will do as the Great Father at Washington 
 wishes, but he cannot change our religion," said 
 another Navajo, "nor can he longer make white 
 squaws of our girls, nor fools proud and lazy, of 
 our young men." 
 
 "Give us back Chunda tonight," said another 
 Navajo. "We will carry her safely to Hut-tah. 
 Our word for it, she shall not be harmed." 
 
 "Men, go home to your hogans and speak not in 
 that way to me. Your words are smooth, but your 
 hearts are evil," replied Major Culvert, with rising 
 anger. "Go back to Hut-tah and tell her to come 
 to Fort Defiance in two days and talk with me and 
 the Maestro, but detain me no longer tonight." 
 
 The men had been speaking in broken Spanish 
 and English, and Major Culvert had replied to them 
 in Spanish. 
 
 The Navajos muttered to one another, and one 
 with louder voice pointed with a threatening gesture 
 toward Major Culvert. 
 
 The agent rode up to him and said : "I know you 
 now, Maitzo, and not one word more like this to 
 me, or I will have you arrested. Men, go on with 
 me to camp and talk with me tomorrow." 
 
 They became more calm, and talked long to one 
 another in Navajo, as if to decide upon some course 
 of action, either to obey the agent or to ride back 
 and search for the girls. 
 
Chunda 
 
 Time had been passing rapidly, however, and the 
 tramp of a body of horsemen was heard coming up 
 the cafion on a gallop. As they wheeled around the 
 turn of the trail twenty mounted police came into 
 view and dashed up to the party standing near 
 Major Culvert and surrounded them. 
 
 The Navajos were surprised and crestfallen. 
 Major Culvert ordered them to dismount and give 
 up their arms. They sullenly submitted, and a 
 dozen police were detailed to guard them. Then 
 the rest of the police, at Major Culvert's orders, 
 started at a rapid gait with Redford up the canon. 
 
 They could not go fast enough to satisfy the 
 joyful yet anxious heart of Redford, but as they 
 reached the clump of cottonwoods opposite to the 
 cave dwelling the sergeant sounded his bugle. As 
 the notes rung through the gorge and up the cliffs 
 the echoes of the bugle were long repeated. At last 
 an Indian whoop came cheerily down the cliff, and 
 then a joyful hurrah. 
 
 The descent of the cliff was perilous in the 
 darkness, but was made in half the time the climb 
 had required, and soon the girls were in the em- 
 braces of the matron and father, whose words of 
 praise for their courage and patience were mingled 
 with thanksgivings for their escape. 
 
II 
 
 113 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 TRANSFORMED 
 
 In the front room of an apartment in a large 
 building near Park Avenue and Seventy-fifth Street, 
 in New York, a girl is sitting late at night with her 
 head leaning upon her hands while a cumbrous 
 leather-covered book on the table before her lies 
 open, but no longer read. The light is burning 
 brightly above her, but her eyes and brain are too 
 tired for study and she has fallen asleep. Her face 
 is in shadow, but her form, lithe and graceful, 
 appears clad in a gray woolen suit with lines of red 
 and blue, making indistinct but large checks in its 
 texture. It is a closely fitting dress and made with 
 evident care and taste in the prevailing style. 
 
 At the maiden's throat is a black velvet ribbon 
 fastened by a round silver pin which was once the 
 rosette of a Navajo bridle. Her lips, of a healthy 
 red color, are half opened with a smile and an 
 expression of surprise. She seems to herself to be 
 again among her people, a girl of fifteen. The 
 bright garments, the dark-painted faces, the jargon 
 of guttural speech, and the animated gestures of 
 hands and arms and bodies in their discussions are 
 all revived to her senses. She is in a confused com- 
 pany under the dark rocks of Chin-a-li. A reddish 
 glare seems to mingle with the shadows of the night, 
 
 115 
 
Chunda 
 
 now revealing, now concealing the faces and forms 
 around her. The arms of her mother seem to reach 
 out and embrace her. The words of her young 
 Navajo lover are being whispered to her as he sits 
 by her side and they look upon some strange move- 
 ment in the dense crowd of Navajos. 
 
 "Will you wait for me," he asks, "until we have 
 both learned how to live a better life than this?" 
 
 As he tells her what he is to learn and become 
 among the white people, her lover seems to change 
 his form and garb. He is sitting in a schoolroom 
 with many others around him like himself. The 
 first lessons are learned. He is working in a great 
 room where there are many wheels and much clat- 
 ter of machines. Now he is tall and commanding 
 in figure, and many come to ask him questions. He 
 is sitting at a wide table with great sheets of white 
 paper before him on which he draws figures and 
 outlines of buildings ; then soldiers in lines and 
 platoons seem to move at his command. He is 
 addressing people in brightly lighted halls, and yet 
 he seems to be pointing ever to the scene she first 
 beheld, but which has receded into the background 
 of the pictures that develop as from shifting clouds 
 before her eager gaze. He disappears from view. 
 Then she looks up to her mother's loving face and 
 asks her a question. She cannot think what she asks, 
 but it pleases her mother, who yet is vanishing while 
 she despairingly cries out, "She-ma! She-ma!" 
 and wakes. 
 
 Her heart is beating wildly and her eyes fill with 
 ii6 
 
Transformed 
 
 tears for its inexpressible longing. But she is at 
 last fully conscious that she has been looking into 
 a past that is locked with a golden key that only 
 study and perseverance will restore to her, and she 
 shuts her book softly. 
 
 Then she sadly prepares herself for the night, 
 turns down the gaslight, and throws herself wearily 
 on her narrow bed to sob herself to sleep. 
 
 It is but a week later. Chickering Hall is filled 
 with a throng of thoughtful and refined people in 
 evening dress. The stage, projecting in a half- 
 spherical shape into the audience room, is bordered 
 on its front with great bouquets of roses in its 
 whole length. The ushers have seated the company 
 that, without a display of elegance, adorns every 
 part of the hall with its beauty and intelligence. 
 
 It is the celebration of the graduation of one of 
 the classes of the New York Medical School for 
 Women. The orchestra has nearly finished the 
 march from Gounod's Faust, when the members of 
 the college enter and march up the middle aisle in 
 Oxford gowns and caps. Relieved of the ordeals 
 of the yearly examinations, these students with 
 happy faces greet their guests. Among them a 
 graceful girl of medium height walks with those 
 who have completed their first year. Her brilliant 
 black eyes are sparkling with merriment over the 
 jests of her companions as they entered the 
 assembly. 
 
 Her name upon the college register does not 
 117 
 
Chunda 
 
 bring- back the maiden whose story has been thus 
 far told, yet the rich dark skin and heightened color 
 and those plump cheeks have not lost the winsome 
 look of Hedipa's daughter, though strength has 
 been added to her features by triumphs over innu- 
 merable difficulties. 
 
 The Navajo girl has found a ready friend in the 
 Bishop of New Mexico, who has given her en- 
 couragement and support in her chosen profession, 
 and asked her to take the name of a revered saint 
 united with that of his own mother's family. 
 
 When Eulalia Lawton's name was read with 
 honors she was greeted with generous applause by 
 her classmates, who had made her their heroine. 
 Her career as an adept in medical science was 
 already predicted by those whose affection and con- 
 fidence she had won in the competitions of the class 
 room. 
 
 zi8 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 INSPIRATIONS 
 
 On a bright morning in March the various de- 
 partments of the Industrial School at Hampton, 
 Virginia, were opened for the annual inspection of 
 its friends and patrons, a numerous company that 
 for a week have been gathering at the Hygeia Hotel 
 at Fortress Monroe from Northern and Southern 
 points, and having arrived on an early train have 
 scattered over the extensive grounds so pic- 
 turesquely located on the shores of Hampton Road- 
 stead. The stately buildings erected for dormitories, 
 recitation rooms and the scientific and industrial 
 departments of this great institution, with its 
 church, chapel and hospital, impress with new 
 force these intelligent and interested visitors as a 
 wonderful creation of human energy and philan- 
 thropy. 
 
 The engines of the Saxton Industrial and Me- 
 chanical Building have set in swift operation its 
 wheels and shafts, which propel a hundred machines 
 for wood and iron work, saws, planers, carvers, 
 drills and lathes of every description. 
 
 The superintendent and foreman of this depart- 
 ment, Edward Nelson, is explaining to the guests 
 of the institute the complicated machinery which 
 men and youths of various ages are tending, and 
 
 119 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 from which they produce samples of work hke that 
 which hes completed on tables near them for per- 
 sonal examination. Here are negroes from Ala- 
 bama and Georgia, and Indians from Nebraska and 
 Minnesota, vying with one another in the skill and 
 perfection of their workmanship ; for on this inspec- 
 tion day at any moment the eyes of the foreman and 
 his assistants may be taking notes of their proficien- 
 cy in the use of the machinery and of the mechan- 
 ical accuracy of their products. Their promotion 
 and progress will depend largely on the way they 
 acquit themselves today. 
 
 The foreman, who appears to be a young man of 
 twenty-eight, has reached his responsible position 
 by virtue of a mechanical talent so quickly developed 
 under the influences of the school that he passed for 
 a genius with his fellows, who, therefore, willingly 
 conceded to him every position to which he rapidly 
 rose. There is not a wheel or a shaft or a rivet in 
 this great establishment of which he does not know 
 the use and correct position. He has handled every 
 part of the machinery, and is ready with directions 
 and advice in every emergency or difficulty the 
 workmen may encounter. 
 
 His complexion and hair, and his features, though 
 finely cut and intelligent, indicate his Indian birth, 
 and an observer familiar with the Apache traits 
 would place his origin in the Southwest. In stature 
 and dignity of bearing he is a noble representative 
 of his nation. 
 
 Among the visitors that morning was a man of 
 
Inspirations 
 
 vigorous form and alert step who had just arrived 
 from Washington. He was a stranger to everyone 
 on the grounds, but famiHar with the appointments 
 of industrial institutions, many of which he had 
 visited, and one of which he had already established. 
 He had made his way unannounced to the Ma- 
 chinery Hall and mingled with the friends of Hamp- 
 ton who were inspecting the building. 
 
 He was soon listening to the intelligent explana- 
 tions and numerous answers of the foreman, and 
 to his criticisms, in the presence of the visitors, of 
 the work of the pupils. He quickly recognized the 
 voice and the manner of some former acquaintance. 
 Soon he was carried by them back to the scenes of 
 the Yavishe dance under the darkly frowning walls 
 of Chin-a-li. But that was ten years ago. "Can it 
 be," he asked himself, "that this quick-moving and 
 sharp-witted man, with such an intelligent face and 
 mien, resembles the friend who guided and pro- 
 tected me through that night of superstitious rites 
 and debauchery of his people? Is it the Navajo 
 hunter, Hot-si?" 
 
 Stepping up to the foreman as he passed near 
 him, he put his hand out from the throng around 
 him, and with a somewhat hasty salutation ad- 
 dressed him: 
 
 "Mr. Nelson, you once befriended me in danger 
 and perplexity among your own people." 
 
 He looked up and with a quick recognition 
 warmly responded : 
 
 "I know you well, sir, and most gratefully. But 
 
 121 
 
Chunda 
 
 for you and your words on that night at Chin-a-li 
 I would not be here. How often I have wished I 
 might thank you!" 
 
 "The pleasure of seeing and hearing you today, 
 with these scores of men and boys under your skill- 
 ful direction and tutelage, is an unspeakable reward 
 for my efforts." 
 
 The foreman called him aside, and behind a plan- 
 iing machine, somewhat removed from the sight of 
 the visitors, he grasped his hand again, and looking 
 him full in the face said with evident feeling: 
 
 ''You know not what it has cost me of effort and 
 perseverance to stand where I now am; but it has 
 been with one thought and purpose that I must 
 explain to you alone. My dear Mr. Redford, may 
 I see you tonight when my duties here are done, 
 and tell you all that is in my heart?" 
 
 'Tt will be my greatest privilege, amid all that 
 interests me here, to listen to your story," he 
 replied. 
 
 "Then I will call for you at the treasurer's office 
 an hour after parade tonight," said the young fore- 
 man, with the light of a longing fulfilled shining in 
 his face. 
 
 A newly arrived group of visitors gathered 
 around them, and the two friends parted. 
 
 When the hour of dress parade came Redford 
 took a position favorable to a critical review of six 
 hundred youths who that day represented in regi- 
 mental array the once despised colored races of the 
 United States. 
 
 122 
 
Inspirations 
 
 As the officers marched to their positions he rec- 
 ognized again his young friend, the Navajo, trans- 
 formed by his uniform and fine mihtary bearing 
 into the commandant of the institution, which em- 
 ployed successfuhy the discipHne of mihtary drill 
 in regulating these untrained minds and teaching 
 them system, accuracy and obedience. 
 
 The parade was creditable to officers and men, 
 and had the commendation of several veterans of 
 the civil war scattered among the spectators. Red- 
 ford, with rising emotion, listened to the last strain 
 of the band after the crowd had dispersed. Then, 
 turning away, he partook lightly of the collation 
 spread under a tent for the visitors and waited 
 thoughtfully for the hour of his appointment. He 
 found Captain Nelson, w'hose official position was 
 now fully known to him, waiting on the steps of the 
 treasurer's office, to which he slowly walked through 
 the grounds. 
 
 The commandant greeted him warmly. He was 
 again in fatigue dress, and his strong and shapely 
 shoulders and limbs were well displayed by the 
 dark blue military suit. 
 
 "I have a boat at the dock, Mr. Redford. Shall 
 we have our talk this evening undisturbed on this 
 quiet bay? I have much in my heart to disclose to 
 you." 
 
 "Nothing could please me better," replied Red- 
 ford, and they walked slowly down Virginia Hall 
 and through the grounds to the water's edge. 
 
 The moon was rising full and the air was still. 
 123 
 
Chunda 
 
 The golden light of sunset yet lingering in the west, 
 and the silvery rays of the moon mingling with the 
 deepened red light, shed a peculiar color upon the 
 calm surface of the bay as the boat glided out from 
 the shadows near the shore. Captain Nelson had 
 the oars, and Redford, sitting in the stern, held the 
 tiller rope. They were facing each other, but each 
 felt a reluctance to begin a conversation which 
 would gather up the experiences of ten eventful 
 years. Redford, having remained in the far South- 
 west after the first year, had lost trace of the Navajo 
 boys who had been under the direction of the 
 government and who, with changed names, could 
 not be identified without personally visiting the in- 
 stitutions to which they had been sent. 
 
 They were far out on the bay when Redford ven- 
 turned to break the silence : 
 
 "Captain Nelson, shall we not talk more freely 
 if I return to your old name. Hot-si?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, for tonight at least. It will bring me 
 to the frankest talk with you." 
 
 "You are greatly changed," resumed Redford. 
 
 "There was great need of change. How little 
 the Navajo boy understood what was needed to 
 make him a fit companion of American youth and 
 raise him to the level of a Christian manhood !" 
 
 "Hot-si, tell me how you began this new life 
 which has lifted you so much above your school 
 fellows." 
 
 "Yes, sir; that will touch upon the very thought 
 I wish to make most of with you tonight. I came 
 
 124 
 
Inspirations 
 
 here by your sending, ten years ago, a rough and 
 ignorant Navajo boy. Today I stood among some 
 of the bravest and wisest of Americans and told 
 them the principles and methods required in a suc- 
 cessful industrial education, I have learned to 
 think as well as to work like a man, and then to 
 superintend and guide others." 
 
 "You have been earnest and diligent, Hot-si, and 
 will reap the rewards of faithfulness." 
 
 "I have not done it, sir, for these rewards already 
 gained, nor those which I am told I may receive. I 
 have been impelled all these years by some power, 
 I know not what, but I have been fulfilling some 
 other purpose than my own." 
 
 "Have you had no strong desire to learn?" said 
 Redford. 
 
 "Yes, but the more I wished and purposed for 
 myself, the more I seemed the servant of this higher 
 power. I learned among the first lessons the words 
 of the Bible, 'In him we live, and move, and have 
 our being,' and when I perceived the meaning of 
 those other words, 'As many as are led by the Spirit 
 of God, they are the sons of God,' I felt that God 
 was in me leading me on, and that his Spirit was 
 helping my infirmities and ignorance, so that I 
 should not only be his willing child, but serve him 
 in some special way." 
 
 "Did you then learn to do easily the tasks given 
 to you?" asked Redford, with an earnestness that 
 he could not conceal. 
 
 "Yes. When once I had learned to read a new 
 125 
 
Chunda 
 
 world seemed open to me. I took special interest in 
 figures. All the studies of numbers and any form 
 of mathematics were most attractive to me. I was 
 in continual excitement over the problems that they 
 presented. The use of tools came to me as if by 
 instinct. A few months made me so skillful in one 
 trade that I took another. Then the study of 
 physics and chemistry began to absorb my thought 
 night and day. I was promoted to the machinery 
 department, and I began with a new impulse and a 
 still deeper interest to learn the first things there. 
 I was curious to know everything about a machine. 
 Not a rivet escaped my notice. I could in six 
 months take every one of those machines apart and 
 put it together again, and the cause of any irregu- 
 larity or stoppage was quickly suggested to my 
 mind." 
 
 "For what," asked Redford, "did you desire to 
 learn all these things? Were you trying to excel 
 the rest of the workmen among your schoolmates, 
 or were you thinking of some advantage or position 
 later on that you might reach?" 
 
 "Neither," said Hot-si. "I always felt that some- 
 one needed me for a difficult work. I tried to find 
 what it was, or to imagine what that work might 
 be. My thoughts often went back to my people in 
 these times of reflection. That morning when I met 
 you lost on the mesa mountain seemed like a glitter- 
 ing point in my mind. Those scenes at Chin-a-li 
 came back again and again to me. The night when 
 I rode out from the Canon de Chelly seemed like a 
 
 126 
 
Inspirations 
 
 dungeon from which I had escaped. Then my own 
 Navajo people with their ignorance and foohsh cus- 
 toms and fears, their poor hogans, and restless mov- 
 ing from one part of their country to another, ap- 
 pealed strongly to my heart. I was filled with a 
 deep pity and a strong love for them, and I asked 
 again and again, What can I do for them?" Hot- 
 si's voice trembled with the emphasis which he 
 unconsciously placed on the last word. 
 
 "Did you not think then that you were being led 
 on for their sakes to such wisdom as you have 
 gained?" interposed Redford. 
 
 "Mr. Redford, the thought grew upon me as if I 
 had a revelation. With that thought you again 
 seemed to be connected. I wondered where you 
 were, and felt I must unfold it to you." 
 
 "Hot-si," said Redford, deeply moved and with 
 a low, persuasive tone that would have won a less 
 willing heart, "have you confidence enough in me, 
 after all these years of separation, to tell me all your 
 heart's purpose?" 
 
 The oars were resting upon the edge of the boat. 
 They were drifting with the tide down to a point 
 whence, at a glance, all the buildings of Hampton 
 Institute could be discerned, half in shadow, half 
 in the soft, silvery rays of the unclouded moon in 
 that brilliant Southern night. 
 
 Hot-si waved his hand to the shore, and was 
 silent for a few moments. Then almost timidly he 
 asked : 
 
 "Would you be willing to begin with me an Indus- 
 127 
 
Chunda 
 
 trial School like that for my people in their own 
 reservation ?" 
 
 Redford had bent forward slightly to catch every 
 word that slowly and hesitatingly came from his 
 companion's lips. When he had finished he reached 
 forward his hand toward Hot-si. 
 
 "Your purpose is of God, my brother. How can 
 I refuse what has been in my own heart night and 
 day since I first addressed your people at Chin-a-li ?" 
 
 Hot-si rose to his feet, lifted his hands to heaven, 
 and stood silently looking into the depths of the 
 clear night sky. At length he said : 
 
 "I believe the spirits of my fathers are near us. 
 They pass one by one before my eyes in shadowy 
 forms, but they look with approval upon us. They 
 seem to plead with me not to falter, and they show 
 me a bright way down to earth, over which hun- 
 dreds of my people are walking and climbing to the 
 happy spirits of their ancestors. Their forms grow 
 brighter in the light. The sign is good. We shall 
 not fail." 
 
 Hot-si had become more than a Shaman. He was 
 a prophet ! 
 
 128 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 EULALIA LAWTON 
 
 EuLALiA Lawton at twenty yiears reached 
 that period in womanhood which with continued 
 study most quickly develops its powers and forms 
 the judgment that marks the character it will bear 
 through life. This maturing comes ordinarily at 
 that age through motherhood, but the powers thus 
 given to another life may be made to serve aspira- 
 tions centering in her own development. An avidity 
 for knowledge as well as for society manifests itself 
 under healthy and suggestive influences. The na- 
 tive traits take upon themselves a bloom and a bril- 
 liancy that attract the eager notice of society, which 
 always seeks a novelty and a possibility of beauty, 
 grace and wit in its circle. 
 
 Eulalia was a diligent student for the next five 
 years in her medical course and hospital practice. 
 She was not merely a plodder, but a searcher for 
 wisdom everywhere, and her mind was hungry for 
 what in her opportunities was growing abundantly 
 around her. There was novelty to her in every 
 product of skill, every work of art. The pattern 
 and texture of dresses, the peculiarities of buildings, 
 the devices of furniture, the conveniences of travel, 
 the collections of antiquities, and the styles and fash- 
 
 129 
 
Chunda 
 
 ions of the past were always interesting and exciting 
 her curious observation. Those accustomed from 
 childhood to these things can hardly measure the 
 delight with which they are perceived and studied 
 by one who reached womanhood in a tepee or a 
 hogan on a reservation. Eulalia's mind from the 
 beginning of her new knowledge never lost its 
 ardor of search. 
 
 With the advantage of friends whose companion- 
 ship and care would not allow her to be exposed to 
 the dangers of a great city, she went everywhere 
 under suitable protection. In love with knowledge, 
 she sought her early and late. On Broadway and 
 the avenues, in the shops, in the museums and art 
 galleries, and even on the docks, in steamboats and 
 railroad trains, wherever during these five years a 
 leisure hour could be profitably spent, she combined 
 recreation and study. So she learned by the quick 
 perception remarkable in her people as much as from 
 the books she diligently read. 
 
 When Eulalia's medical course was finished she 
 had time during hospital practice to attend scientific 
 and popular lectures in entertainments that intro- 
 duced her to the progressive thoughts and enter- 
 prises of the times. She studied city institutions, 
 especially those of an industrial and charitable aim. 
 She began to enter the quiet literary circle in which 
 Redford and his family moved, and became a 
 student of character in new and interesting phases. 
 She was sprightly and animated in her conversation, 
 which seemed like the bubbling of those effervescing 
 ' 130 
 
EULALIA LaWTON 
 
 spring waters to which her people resorted as to a 
 sanitarium of nature's own providing. 
 
 But while her mind was settling to certain tastes 
 and pursuits she was wary of intimacies with her 
 companions. She loved the family of her benefactor 
 with genuine and unstinted devotion. She had im- 
 plicit confidence in the sisterly affection and good 
 judgment of Margaret, whose faithfulness she re- 
 turned with constant sacrifices for her pleasure. 
 To Mrs. Redford she was even more indebted, for 
 with her refinement and intelligence she cherished 
 her with maternal fondness. By an excellent liter- 
 ary judgment and a strong Christian sentiment Mrs. 
 Redford became an invaluable guide, and saved 
 Eulalia from many misdirections of her own im- 
 pulses and shaped her womanly traits to strength 
 as well as beauty. 
 
 Thus, upon a nature singularly fresh and uncon- 
 taminated at first, was built a discriminating charac- 
 ter of no ordinary worth. 
 
 One morning at breakfast Mrs. Redford turned 
 to Eulalia and said : 
 
 "Mr. Redford has invited to dinner tonight a 
 gentleman from Hampton, Virginia, one of the 
 instructors there who was in the office yesterday. 
 He would like you to meet him Can you make 
 your arrangements at the hospital to be away this 
 afternoon and till tomorrow morning? We wish to 
 be sure that you will be free." 
 
 "Happily, dearest mamma," Eulalia said, for she 
 always thus called her, "I have that time at my com- 
 
 131 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 mand today as special reward for a difficult surgical 
 operation yesterday." 
 
 "How was that, Eulalia?" asked Mrs. Redford. 
 
 "The doctors in charge could not bring their 
 minds to perform it. They believed it would be 
 fatal to the patient, who seemed to be rapidly sink- 
 ing ; but I pleaded for the woman to try to save her 
 life, and to let me attempt it, if they would not. 
 When it was well over they all declared I should 
 have two weeks off, to save my own life, as they 
 said." 
 
 "Bravo, Eulalia ! We are proud of you. I read 
 of it in the evening paper as a brilliant operation. 
 You shall have a reward in meeting somebody worth 
 knowing. Mr. Redford found him last month at 
 Hampton, and made him promise a visit when he 
 should come to New York." 
 
 "I am charmed, dearest mamma. My best gown 
 and ribbons have been waiting for a proper occasion, 
 and I am most gratefully yours for tonight, without 
 a written invitation. I am going to spend part of 
 the morning in cultivating feminine tastes in the 
 shops on Twenty-third Street and return two or 
 three calls on the West Side this afternoon. If I 
 can get a three hours' sleep in between these press- 
 ing duties, will you mind?" 
 
 "No, indeed, Eulalia ; that will be the best part 
 of your holiday, but perhaps you will prefer the 
 pleasures of the evening." 
 
 The breakfast was over and the family separated. 
 
 Seven o'clock w^as near, and Eulalia was finish- 
 132 
 
EULALIA LaWTON 
 
 ing her toilet for dinner. Fortunately, the nap had 
 absorbed the hours which had been assigned in the 
 morning to calls. She was restful, calm and happy 
 from its refreshing, and for the unwonted relief 
 from the care of patients and with the sense of two 
 weeks of entire liberty before her. 
 
 Mrs. Redford and Margaret had just seated them- 
 selves in the reception room when their guest was 
 announced. At the moment he entered the room 
 Eulalia had come from the opposite direction and 
 stood gazing curiously while he was saluting Mrs. 
 Redford and her daughter. He had been cordially 
 received and was now waiting for the moment when 
 he might take a seat, when Mrs. Redford, who had 
 turned toward her chair, discovered Eulalia. 
 
 "Ah, Captain Nelson, this is my foster daughter. 
 Miss Lawton. The Bishop of New Mexico and I 
 have claims that cannot be reconciled in this dear 
 girl, and we are each nearing a collision. Perhaps 
 before the evening is ended you can tell which of us 
 has the better right to claim her. Kindly be seated. 
 Captain Nelson." 
 
 But he hardly heard her command. His eyes 
 were fixed with wonder. The bright red of Eulalia's 
 cheeks and the brunette complexion, fresh and vig- 
 orous, but softened by repose of body and spirit, 
 would have attracted anyone's gaze; but there was 
 a wakening of Nelson's sharp perceptions to recog- 
 nition of features and expression, however changed, 
 that held him for an instant in uncertainty. Then 
 rushed back from his fondest recollection an ideal 
 
 133 
 
Chunda 
 
 face, to challenge comparison with this one before 
 him. Only an instant it lingered. What was the 
 decision of his mind as to their identity? 
 
 Eulalia had been at advantage in the moments 
 that passed during the welcome of Mrs. Redford 
 and Margaret, but her womanly perception had 
 flashed at the first look a recognition of her Navajo 
 lover in the tall, dark-skinned, but sharply intel- 
 lectual man before her. 
 
 There was a flutter of her heart for a moment. It 
 throbbed wildly, but her face showed no sign of its 
 violent action, except a growing firmness about the 
 mouth. She cast a second look full into Captain 
 Nelson's face as she bowed. Her intuitions were 
 quicker than his. She saw the transformation of ten 
 years, from a youthful lover on the reservation to a 
 man of force, of vigorous will, of judgment, self- 
 reliant and sufficient for the accomplishment of large 
 purposes. 
 
 The womanly reserve of an equally self-con- 
 tained character that had waited in its development, 
 unsought for yet faithful to its maidenly pledge, 
 assumed control of Eulalia in that moment. They 
 were both changed. The promise of youth was ful- 
 filled, but she must be won again in her new and 
 larger thought and life, while it was even probable 
 that they could never find companionship after such 
 divergence from the thoughts and traits of their 
 young days. 
 
 So Eulalia's decision was made. Naturally there 
 was an instant change of attitude from the one that 
 
 134 
 
EULALIA LaWTON 
 
 at first recognition seemed unavuidable. Eulalia's 
 calm and steady but kindly look kept the Navajo 
 lover at a distance and gradually brought Captain 
 Nelson, commandant and instructor at Hampton, to 
 the front. He recovered himself and ceased to 
 wonder. 
 
 Nelson turned to Mrs. Redford and said: ''Your 
 husband has been most kind and considerate in giv- 
 ing me the pleasure of meeting you and your family 
 tonight." 
 
 "Mr. Redford has often wished for this oppor- 
 tunity," she replied pleasantly. "His interest in 
 Hampton seemed to center in you and your kind 
 attentions to him." 
 
 "Mr. Redford was more than a guest to me, my 
 dear madam," said Nelson warmly. "He bridged 
 the space of years by his sympathy with my most 
 cherished wish, and has now made my purpose well- 
 defined and one that, if my life is spared, must be 
 fulfilled." 
 
 Redford now entered the room, and as he finished 
 his greeting to Nelson the maid appeared at the 
 folding door and announced dinner. 
 
 The hostess put her arm in Captain Nelson's, and 
 as they walked into the dining room said in low 
 tones, as if replying to his last words : 
 
 "You have given my husband new courage and 
 hope for a work that he has held dear to his heart 
 for many years." 
 
 Captain Nelson was seated at Mrs. Redford's 
 right, and next to him was Eulalia. Margaret and 
 
 135 
 
Chunda 
 
 her young brother, Vinton, a boy of fifteen, were 
 opposite. 
 
 The conversation was general. The dinner was 
 served in a few courses, but with the ease and grace 
 suited to the social relations of the family. 
 
 As they grew better acquainted Margaret and 
 Eulalia vied with each other in shrewd and lively 
 replies to Redford's suggestions, who kept control 
 of the table talk. 
 
 When they returned to the parlor Captain Nelson 
 took a seat near Eulalia by the window, as far as 
 possible from the others. 
 
 '*Miss Lawton," he said, hesitatingly, "you have 
 surprised me indeed by the power with which your 
 face brings back old scenes, but in your words and 
 manner this evening I find no recognition of the 
 friend of my boyhood of whom you remind me." 
 
 "That was to be expected, Captain Nelson, if 
 your fancy has been trying to clothe me in a blanket 
 and moccasins in order to get a familiar glimpse of 
 me." 
 
 "My memory. Miss Lawton, has never lacked 
 skill before to make those faces distinct, but tonight 
 it is in a daze. It seems more than ten years since 
 I left the reservation with my friend here and his 
 company of Navajo girls to seek my fortunes among 
 the white people. You have made most rapid prog- 
 ress away from your past, Miss Lawton," he con- 
 tinued, after a pause. 
 
 "But you have been far ahead of me in your 
 flight," she hastily replied. "Those birds no longer 
 
 136 
 
EULALIA LavVTON 
 
 flock together that stretched their wings on that 
 day." 
 
 "How often do they meet in air, Miss Lawton?" 
 Nelson said, with feeHng. "It is when they hght 
 upon soHd ground that they can exchange their 
 notes of welcome and sympathy." 
 
 "You have not forgotten your hunter's craft, 
 Captain Nelson — but Mrs. Redford is coming to 
 speak to you." 
 
 "Ah, Captain Nelson," said his hostess, "I must 
 give you warning. My foster child, Eulalia, is for- 
 bidden for two weeks to discuss anything serious or 
 bookish. She must live in alternate dreams and 
 waking and feed on the fresh air of the Adiron- 
 dacks. My dear friends, the Oldhams, today offered 
 us their cottage at Blue Mountain Lake, while they 
 shall be absent at the seashore. Everything there 
 is in a habitable condition for them, and we are 
 welcome to all its comforts. We shall take the 
 generous fare of the hotel table besides. I have 
 invited the Bishop of New Mexico to join us and 
 he will spend a week or ten days as our guest and 
 give us two Sundays in the little church on the lake 
 shore. Will you. Captain Nelson, give us also your 
 presence ?" 
 
 There could be but one response to such hospital- 
 ity. Besides the pleasure of intimacy with this 
 lovely family, Nelson could meet the Bishop to 
 whom of all others his thoughts had been directed 
 by Redford in his plans for the welfare of his 
 people. 
 
 137 
 
Chunda 
 
 "With all my heart, madam. Nothing could suit 
 me better. You have 'my thanks in advance,' as 
 they now write when they ask for large favors." 
 
 So the half hour remaining of Captain Nelson's 
 visit was spent in a lively discussion of the "outing." 
 
 138 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 REVELATIONS 
 
 The Redford party took the day boat to Albany. 
 The night was spent at Saratoga, and an early start 
 was made the next morning by rail for the Adiron- 
 dacks The stage from North River station arrived 
 at Blue Mountain Lake on the evening of the second 
 day It was the first of August, and there had been 
 a succession of showers interspersed with hot sun- 
 shine through the day. The season had been dry 
 and the rains thus falling for several days had 
 changed the thick dust to mud, but their effect on 
 the hillsides and forests was delightful. The air 
 was fragrant with the odor of pines, and the stage 
 ride refreshed instead of wearied the travelers. 
 They were prepared for the full enjoyment of the 
 new kind of life awaiting them in the rustic cot- 
 tages that surrounded the hotel, but were hidden 
 in the oaks and pines that covered the steep shores 
 
 of the lake. , . ,, j i 
 
 The stage was driven up to the hotel in the dark- 
 ness, and they climbed the long stairway to the 
 veranda. Each of the party entered with elated 
 spirits into the brightly lighted lobby, but they were 
 strangers to the guests of the hotel, and supper was 
 served at once. Then the party started on foot with 
 a guide and lanterns over a path through the woods 
 
 139 
 
Chunda 
 
 to Oldham Cottage. The maid in charge had been 
 notified of their coming, and a fire was burning in 
 the huge fireplace at one end of the reception room. 
 
 Margaret, Vinton and Eulalia had hurried for- 
 ward to the cottage, closely followed by Nelson, 
 while Redford and his wife were somewhat behind. 
 
 The exterior of the cottage was in darkness, but 
 they perceived it to be covered with great sheets of 
 pine bark. The interior was finished with partitions 
 and panels of pine and cedar posts still retaining 
 their bark. Broad strips of white birch bark filled 
 the panels, which were bordered with turkey-red 
 cloth, and the rafters were visible above all the 
 rooms. 
 
 The floors were of plain wood unpainted ; the 
 walls and window seats hung with skins of deer 
 and foxes, mink and stuffed birds. Shotguns, fish- 
 ing rods and baskets for game stood in the corners, 
 and photographs of the lakes and mountain houses 
 in the vicinity covered unsightly places in the pine 
 slabs of which the walls were constructed. Even 
 the furniture, the bedsteads, the divans and chairs 
 were made with rustic frames. But, with all this 
 rough and woodsy material, artistic shapes and de- 
 signs for ornamentation were everywhere visible. 
 
 It was diflicult to tell whether the effect of these 
 surroundings was the more pleasing to Nelson and 
 Eulalia, brought up in the rude shelters of the reser- 
 vation, or to those who came from refined homes. 
 Certainly they revealed to the former a new sug- 
 gestion of adaptation and gradual civilization with 
 
 140 
 
Revelations 
 
 material at hand for the homes of their Navajo 
 kinsfolk. 
 
 Nelson studied with a critical eye every device 
 and touch of an artistic hand in the outward shapes 
 and interior arrangement and decorations of these 
 summer homes. He perceived that with few addi- 
 tions they could be made comfortable for winter, 
 and so suitable for his people in their warmer 
 climate. 
 
 It was past midnight when the family were quietly 
 resting in their apartments in the cottage, but later 
 still when Captain Nelson closed his eyes. He had 
 been reviewing the last two days and his progress 
 in acquaintance with Eulalia. On the steamboat 
 they were often together, viewing from the saloon 
 deck the unrivaled views on the Hudson. But 
 every hour revealed how far apart they had gone in 
 their sentiments. There was no word of love be- 
 tw^een them. There was but little allusion to the 
 past. The second day Nelson had been seated by 
 Margaret in the highest seat on the top of the coach, 
 Eulalia and Vinton Redford below them, and Mr. 
 and Mrs. Redford were inside passengers. The 
 frequent showers and the novel scenery had given a 
 lively but desultory cast to the conversation. They 
 were no nearer that evening to an understanding of 
 each other's hearts, for Margaret's gayety had left 
 no time for serious speech between them. 
 
 The morning broke clear upon the lake, and 
 Nelson, having risen early, from a hill to the south 
 watched the sun's first beams upon the beautiful 
 
 •141 
 
Chunda 
 
 sheet of water. His old love of wandering in forest 
 glades was aroused. He hurried down to the shore, 
 and finding a boatman took a canoe and paddled 
 far out into the lake. 
 
 The woods and mountains, becoming now distinct 
 before his eyes, were in their native beauty and 
 grandeur, untouched by the hand of man. He had 
 not seen their like since he left the reservation. 
 From their sides were rolling the clouds of fog that 
 had risen earlier from the lakes. Nelson turned his 
 canoe to cross the lake through islands deeply 
 wooded which rose like emeralds from its crystal 
 depths. The farther he paddled the nearer he 
 seemed to come to the spirits of the tribes that once 
 dwelt around these shores. He felt that he might be 
 kindred to them, at least in sympathy with their 
 simple faiths and customs. So his fancy led him, 
 and he began to build again their lodges and to 
 descry them in their bark canoes following the deer 
 that plunged into the lake, and to hear their songs 
 and whoops in their dances on these green islands 
 that he was passing, whose rocky sides rise boldly 
 from the deep water. 
 
 Suddenly, in his reveries, Nelson heard a splash, 
 and he turned his head to see the horns of a buck 
 that had come furiously down the hill and was 
 swimming for the opposite shore. The distant bay 
 of a hound told Nelson of the pursuit that had 
 struck terror into the poor beast, which had been 
 browsing in a forest glade. 
 
 Nelson was transformed into a hunter once more. 
 142 
 
Revelations 
 
 With neither rifle nor bow, he hastily paddled to- 
 ward the game. His canoe quickly overtook the 
 frightened animal, and he steered between him and 
 the shore which he had almost reached. Nelson 
 raised his paddle to smite him, when the soft, be- 
 seeching eyes of the deer caught his own. He hesi- 
 tated, then dropped his uplifted arm and let him 
 pass. 
 
 "No!" he said, "my poor fellow, you are like my 
 own nation, hunted, crowded back, driven from their 
 haunts, pursued by greed and selfishness. Flee, 
 rather, to your mate and escape the hunters. 'I 
 have come not to destroy, but to save.' 
 
 ' He prayeth well who loveth well 
 
 Both man and bird and beast. 
 
 He prayeth best who loveth best 
 
 All things both great and small ; 
 For the dear God who loveth us, 
 He made and loveth all.' 
 
 The buck had reached the bank which sloped to 
 the water. Nelson saw his horns disappear amid the 
 branches, and he listened to his steps bounding up 
 the mountainside. 
 
 "Saved!" he exclaimed, and he lifted his eyes to 
 heaven. " 'So, O God, defend us, thy • humble 
 servants, in all assaults of our enemies; that we, 
 surely trusting in thy defense, may not fear the 
 power of any adversaries, through the might of 
 Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.' " 
 
 Nelson paddled back thoughtfully to the boat- 
 house. His heart was full of tenderness as he re- 
 
 143 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 called his people, and his projects for them not yet 
 begun. 
 
 He mounted the stairway to the veranda of the 
 hotel, and found there Eulalia and Margaret walk- 
 ing up and down its long reaches, and looking out 
 upon the surface of the lake, now gray with rip- 
 ples from the morning breeze. Their cheeks were 
 fresh from sleep in the mountain air, and their eyes 
 glistened with delight. 
 
 "Buenos dias, seiioritas !" said Captain Nelson, 
 cheerily, as they approached him. He did not know 
 that his salutation would be a reminder of the past, 
 till out of the associations with his latest thoughts 
 he had involuntarily uttered the words. 
 
 "Buenos dias, senor," said Margaret, joyously. 
 
 "Good morning," said Eulalia, more quietly. 
 
 "I have been out on the lake," said Nelson, "and 
 have found already what will be our greatest diver- 
 sion in this delightful place." Then he changed 
 his tone: "I hope you are rested, girls, and ready 
 for anything today." 
 
 "Yes, indeed!" said Margaret, "for anything 
 from a plunge to a climb; but I think we will take 
 breakfast first. Mamma and papa are already in the 
 breakfast room waiting for us. We saw you com- 
 ing over the lake." 
 
 The week went by swiftly, as in a dream. The 
 first day was given to canoeing, till they could mas- 
 ter singly or by twos the unsteady craft, and with- 
 out fear venture across the lake, through inlets and 
 outlets into others for many miles, or, landing upon 
 
 144 
 
Revelations 
 
 the islands, picnic on the rocks or within their 
 deeper shade. Margaret often went alone; then 
 Nelson and Eulalia were always in the same canoe, 
 but Mr. and Mrs. Redford joined them in their 
 picnic teas on the islands. They strolled at will 
 along the mossy paths on the lake shore, played 
 tennis in the hotel courts, or sat upon the piazzas 
 mingling with the guests; but they were always 
 comfortable and happy when gathered in the quiet 
 evenings about their own huge fireplace in Oldham 
 Cottage. Then Nelson would sometimes tell Na- 
 vajo traditions. For a couple of hours every morn- 
 ing Redford and Captain Nelson discussed most 
 seriously the great enterprise which it was in their 
 hearts to accomplish for the Navajos. Margaret 
 had found some young men acquaintances among 
 recent arrivals whose diversions drew her from the 
 rest of the family, and so the interviews between 
 Eulalia and Nelson were daily more protracted. 
 
 Were they advancing on the flower-strewn path 
 of love ? Had they yet discovered that the affection 
 and troth of youth were only suited to another sort 
 of life, and that natures so transformed in each by 
 education and by different ruling motives would 
 never be happy together? 
 
 Nelson did not dare to speak the stronger pas- 
 sion that now controlled him. He was quick to see 
 the rare and richer bloom of Eulalia's nature. It 
 was so finely wrought, so full of joyous sentiment, 
 and so unselfish in its devotion to the suffering and 
 needy of her people that he feared to test its leaning 
 
 145 
 
Chunda 
 
 toward his own companionship as essential to her 
 fullest life and happiness. 
 
 There was such resource of good in herself, such 
 calm and untiring search for the true and helpful 
 things in nature and art and humanity to ennoble 
 herself and benefit others by them, that he well 
 might fear it to be an intrusion of his own person- 
 ality — a conceit of his own growing passion — to 
 propose that he share her life and unite her destiny 
 to his less complete and more dependent soul. 
 
 It was Saturday morning, and the young people 
 had wandered up the hill from which Nelson had 
 taken the first view of the lake which had so power- 
 fully wakened in him the Navajo. The two friends 
 sat apart from the others on a great rock in a field 
 by the roadside where the whole effect of water, 
 islands and distant mountains and lakes could be 
 taken in the scene. Eulalia had asked Nelson to 
 recount to her his life since they left the reservation 
 together, and he had described to her its unfoldings 
 of desire and power and effort. His difficulties in 
 religious training and beliefs were especially nar- 
 rated, and his final settling with religious theories 
 by resolving to devote all his energy and skill and 
 knowledge to lift his own Navajo tribe to an out- 
 w^ard equality with the white men, or at least to set 
 them well on the way to such a transformation. 
 
 Eulalia could perceive in the narrative no vital 
 influence of their early love on his daily life. After 
 a year or two it was remembered as a dream that 
 some time he would live over, but it had guarded 
 
 146 
 
Revelations 
 
 his heart from every other intruder on the place he 
 had given it there. 
 
 The young people were returning by various 
 paths to the hotel and cottages. Margaret and her 
 friends went down the hill to the lake shore and 
 struck into a path that ran through the thick woods 
 along the uneven banks. Nelson and Eulalia fol- 
 lowed them, but so far behind that they often in the 
 leafy path lost sight of those ahead. The way grew 
 very narrow, and they had to walk singly. The 
 habit of the early life in following a trail was un- 
 consciously assumed. Eulalia was behind her lover. 
 Their thoughts fell into the old channels. The 
 mosses and the trees, the rocks and the birds, the 
 very shading of the path by the sun-flecked branches 
 made their hearts young again, and they talked now 
 of those early years. The path came out at last to 
 the little Church of the Transfiguration, built a few 
 feet from the white sandy beach of the lake, amid 
 tall old pines. It was constructed of logs, like the 
 cottages, with their rough outer bark carefully pre- 
 served, while within its ceiling of native pine, its 
 seats, and all its appointments and its design be- 
 tokened the taste of a skilled architect and the 
 scrupulous care of an Anglican priest. 
 
 The sight of this chapel in the woods aroused their 
 admiration, and suggested again the possibilities of 
 its repetition for their own people in the reserva- 
 tion. Sitting upon a log lying prone upon the 
 white sand moistened by the rippling lake, Nelson 
 now begged Eulalia for the story of her school 
 
 147 
 
Chunda 
 
 and college life. It was at first humorously pictured 
 to her friend. The child spirit again came back to 
 her. She told in Hght and easy vein a tale of the 
 first three years. Then she depicted the brightness 
 of her hope of meeting her mother, with its sad and 
 pathetic outcome. Her story was now seriously 
 unfolded. Her pity for her kinsfolk and nation 
 when stricken with disease, lonely and helpless in 
 their hogans, without medical care or assistance till 
 too late for their recovery, and the purpose to de- 
 'vote her whole life to their relief was calmly but 
 with deep feeling explained and dwelt upon till she 
 could say no more. 
 
 Their hearts for all these years now were open to 
 each other's scrutiny. They had kept their word, so 
 early plighted beneath the cliffs of the Canon de 
 Chelly, but Nelson's absorbing zeal for knowledge 
 had made him delay to claim her young maiden love 
 for him, and he had even been indifferent at times 
 to know her fate. Chance or design had brought 
 them together. Was it too late? Certainly not for 
 Nelson's love. The brand smoldering in his bosom 
 had quickened into a consuming flame at sight and 
 acquaintance with this once-betrothed child, but 
 now a high-souled woman. 
 
 There was no mistaking his passion now, and 
 when he recognized its full force and claim he fol- 
 lowed its behest. 
 
 Eulalia had finished her story. 
 
 "Loved friend of my youth," he pleaded, with 
 deep and trembling voice, "let me have the place I 
 
 148 
 
Revelations 
 
 once could claim so unworthily. Your destiny de- 
 manded a nobler companion. Can I not be that? 
 I offer you now a better self, but you are risen so 
 much beyond me that I pray for your tender regard 
 — for your love to take me into its ennobling influ- 
 ence and to make me only your equal in unselfish- 
 ness — your helper and protector in fulfilling life's 
 duty!" 
 
 Eulalia turned her flushed face calmly to his, 
 and with her clear, dark eye searching his spirit 
 replied : 
 
 "Captain Nelson, for these ten years past I have 
 not been first in your earthly thoughts, and the 
 stronger passion of your soul has been only for a 
 work for our people that was worthy indeed of the 
 noblest and most unselfish spirit. I also have given 
 myself to my people." 
 
 Nelson would have spoken here, but a nameless 
 fear was creeping into his spirit. 
 
 "I do not doubt," she continued, "the sincerity 
 of your confession of your present devotion to me, 
 but is it now a love stronger than any other pur- 
 pose — stronger than death? We had better fulfill 
 each our greater duty alone, and wait for other 
 years to make our happiness complete." 
 
 "Miss Lawton! Chunda! Forgive me," said 
 Nelson, rising and holding out his hand. "Do not 
 give answer yet to this question. Not yet. No! 
 Let a few more days, if need be, be allowed us both 
 among these scenes so like those of our early love. 
 Here, if anywhere, you may learn the strength of 
 
 149 
 
Chunda 
 
 my love and our need of each other in raising our 
 people to a better life, like ours now." 
 
 She grasped his hand gently but firmly for a 
 moment, and then they turned toward the road that 
 led up to Oldham Cottage. 
 
 ISO 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 ON THE HEIGHTS 
 
 No arrival could have been more welcome at Old- 
 ham Cottage than that of the Bishop of New Mexico 
 on the Saturday evening which closed the first week 
 at Blue Mountain Lake. He had already met 
 Eulalia several times in New York, and was strongly 
 convinced of her fitness for her chosen work. Her 
 occasional letters had led him to form a sincere 
 affection for his protegee, who had won his respect 
 by her ability and her singular devotion to the 
 beneficent scheme in which she intended to use the 
 remarkable skill already attained in her profession. 
 
 Captain Nelson was a new acquaintance to the 
 Bishop, and the unfolding of his plan in a long con- 
 ference that evening with him and Mr. Redford had 
 filled his heart with serious thoughts of the way to 
 accomplish so great a work for the redemption of 
 nearly twenty thousand Navajos from barbarism. 
 
 The next morning he rose early to meet a few 
 faithful communicants at holy communion. In com- 
 pany with Mr. Redford he went down to the little 
 church among the trees, which were dripping with 
 the heavy dew. He stood a while on the shore and 
 looked out upon the smooth surface of the lake, in 
 deep shade along the banks from the dense woods, 
 above which the sun had not yet risen. Farther out, 
 
 151 
 
Chunda 
 
 where the water was rippled by the Hght breeze 
 coming down the mountainside, were to be seen 
 two or three canoes headed directly toward the 
 church. In the bow of one of these canoes was 
 standing upright a large cross of white lilies, gath- 
 ered from the lake and arranged by some faithful 
 churchwoman to decorate the altar. As they neared 
 the shore a city rector staying across the lake rose 
 in the boat, and with his companion, who had held 
 the oars, lifted out the cross and brought it to land. 
 Saluting the Bishop, the three clergymen went into 
 the little vestry room, while five or six communi- 
 cants from the rector's church, leaving their canoes, 
 joined the group of twenty or more gathered from 
 the cottages to receive holy communion. Among 
 these were kneeling near the chancel Margaret and 
 Eulalia, and Captain Nelson, a later comer, was 
 near the door. 
 
 On two hearts at least in that little company were 
 resting burdens that needed to be lifted; two were 
 seeking the leading of that kindly light that has 
 often entered weary minds in the wilderness. For 
 these two hearts it was a hallowed service of con- 
 fession, of prayer for help and guidance, of quick- 
 ened faith, of renewed devotion. It gave also to 
 the Bishop officiating the theme of his sermon, which 
 was to strengthen many worshipers in the later serv- 
 ice : "The chastisement of our peace was upon him, 
 and by his stripes we are healed." 
 
 The next day was the Feast of the Transfigura- 
 tion. The church was nearly filled with communi- 
 
 152 
 
On the Heights 
 
 cants at the holy celebration which followed morning 
 prayer. The Bishop, in his short address, described 
 the effect on weary and troubled minds of scenes of 
 beauty in the companionship of those endowed with 
 physical grace and beauty. "The three disciples 
 were able to look upon what w^as more enrapturing 
 to the eye than any earthly sight could be — the trans- 
 figured beauty of the Son of man when his divine 
 nature irradiated his human form and features. 
 While the harmony of their surroundings in ethereal 
 loveliness perfected the picture before the ennobled 
 gaze of the three disciples, Saint Peter could well 
 say it w-as good to be there; and they desired to 
 abide and listen to heavenly themes while Moses 
 and Elias conversed with their Lord. But what 
 did they hear from their lips ?" continued the Bishop. 
 "As they talked of the things which should yet be 
 in the earthly life of the Son of God, they heard 
 of the sufferings he should yet accomplish ere his 
 purpose and work should be fulfilled. So is it," 
 concluded the Bishop's address, "that in our mo- 
 ments of highest spiritual elation we shall so clearly 
 see the shadow of earth's need and our own part 
 in the sorrows of men that we may be able to heal 
 and purify them." 
 
 By previous arrangement, the afternoon of 
 Transfiguration Day was given to the ascent of Blue 
 Mountain. It rose directly above the cottages, but 
 could be approached only by the road winding up 
 to the rock already described, where Nelson and 
 Eulalia had been seated when he told her the story 
 
 153 
 
Chunda 
 
 of his education. A party had gathered directly 
 after noon from the hotel for the mountain climb, 
 in which the guests at Oldham Cottage had been 
 invited to join. 
 
 The path led at first through open fields, and the 
 company was divided into groups of five or six 
 persons. But as the way became steeper and en- 
 tered the heavier w'oods it separated these clusters 
 of gay and sedate people into closer companionship 
 as they straggled up the mountainside. The rough 
 path became formidable to weaker limbs, and strong 
 arms were often needed to pull the climbers up and 
 over the bowlders that could not be avoided. 
 
 At last, by a deliciously cold spring with mossy 
 sides, flowing close to the trail, the Oldham cot- 
 tagers found a desirable spot to take a long rest. 
 Here they could get glimpses of the forests and hills 
 and lakes below them like a paradise hidden from 
 mortal sight, but seen occasionally through the 
 clouds which our spiritual fancies pierce, or which 
 break into rifts before the tearful eyes of those who 
 sorrow in hope of a better and brighter world. 
 
 Eulalia and her lover in the excitement of their 
 arduous climbing had felt again the powder of early 
 impressions and were in the happy moods of their 
 childhood days. They talked with utmost freedom 
 to Redford and Margaret. They laughingly told 
 the romances of their tribe, sometimes so absurd as 
 to make the woods ring with the merriment excited 
 in their friends as well as in their own hearts by the 
 recital. Again they began to climb, and in half an 
 
 154 
 
On the Heights 
 
 hour came out upon the rocky summit, bare of trees 
 but piled with massive bowlders which were sur- 
 mounted by the frame of an observatory raised for 
 government surveys. 
 
 From this lofty spot the sight of forty or fifty 
 glistening lakes amid the wide-spreading wilderness 
 of forest, and the mountain ranges sixty miles away, 
 rising in dim outlines on the horizon, translated 
 them to the regal mountain chains of their own 
 country. They stood in silent admiration of the 
 view for a few minutes, then they sought a com- 
 manding ledge for a seat, while others of the 
 numerous party, scattering over the mountain top, 
 strolled to nearer points of observation. 
 
 Eulalia and Nelson were lifted by the familiar 
 scenes of the unsubdued wilderness and by the rare- 
 fied air of their position on the mountain's crest to a 
 spiritual level, while their thoughts harmonized. 
 Their visions of their own selves were clarified. 
 They discerned in sharper lines their separate mis- 
 sions for their people. 
 
 Eulalia saw the fallen raised, their enfeebled 
 bodies clothed with vigor, their wan faces turned 
 to smiles with a healthy glow, and with gratitude 
 for the tender care and wonderful skill which had 
 saved them from despair and death. 
 
 Nelson beheld the ignorant groping no longer, 
 but gladly searching for the truths of nature around 
 them and of the spiritual life within them. They 
 wrought at occupations like other American citi- 
 zens, equal with them in political rights. They 
 
 155 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 improved their own lands, builded their own houses, 
 carried on trades and manufactures, planned and 
 developed their own progress in the arts of Ameri- 
 can life, and ventured sometimes to higher knowl- 
 edge and taught their people the gospel of an earthly 
 redemption and of a future life. 
 
 Drawn by a common purpose, they turned toward 
 each other. 
 
 "Eulalia," said Nelson, "can you not see that our 
 paths lie like those two silvery chains of lakes be- 
 tween the green forests yonder, ever nearer to each 
 other as they stretch out toward the west? In the 
 horizon that bounds our view they seem to unite. 
 Our thoughts fly swiftly along those waters toward 
 the land of our mothers. Can w^e do for the people 
 there wdiat our hearts now plan without each other's 
 sustaining love? How easy it was for us just now 
 to climb together that steep path ! Its difficulties 
 brought us only to aid more constantly each other. 
 Love transfigures duty whether we toil for ourselves 
 or others. To lift a fallen fellow sinner to hope 
 and truth, how blessed! to raise one's own people 
 to the respect and fellowship of citizens in this won- 
 derful republic, and to share this work together! 
 Can God call us to a higher duty, or let our paths 
 separate when we might have this joy, Oh, dearest 
 friend, to sow and reap together?" 
 
 Eulalia lifted her dark eyes to Nelson as he 
 paused, and now, with a look of mingled admiration 
 and devotion that was tinged with pain, she softly 
 answered : 
 
 156 
 
On the Heights 
 
 "When your little Chunda left you it was to make 
 herself a worthier helpmate to you. There was no 
 thought then of these many years of toil and sepa- 
 ration that have rolled between us. Your trusting 
 little maid had been lonely and sad, but never has 
 she been untrue to you, and now her brave hunter 
 boy comes back to ask her to share his nobler life 
 and the destiny of her own people whom he would 
 save. Does he think that Eulalia is now less mind- 
 ful of the high purpose and honored station of her 
 lover than when he was the son of a chief, roaming 
 in idle hunting over the reservation ? Does he think 
 that she has less love in her woman's heart and her 
 own enlarged powers to give him now ? I am yours 
 now as I always have been in heart, but a thousand 
 times more because you ask me to love you in a 
 service which we have each received from the Lord 
 who has redeemed us and given us a higher faith 
 and purpose!" 
 
 Nelson saw the love light in her eyes grow dim 
 with tears. As he seized her hand the sight of some 
 of the party strolling near restrained a more tender 
 embrace. 
 
 "Dearest Eulalia," he said — "no, let me call you 
 now 'my little Chunda' as of old — why does this 
 shadow darken your beautiful eyes in this moment 
 of my supremest joy? Tell me your deepest 
 thought. Am I not forgiven my neglect, my 
 wretched heedlessness of you when I was swept 
 along by my mad thirst to know and do everything 
 to make me worthy of my life's aim? Oh, darling, 
 
 157 
 
Chunda 
 
 forget it now, when we both may be — when we are 
 once more — so happy. Have we not waited long 
 enough to take the joy of these moments in a 
 higher, purer and nobler love than we as children 
 could know?" 
 
 "Mr. Nelson," said Eulalia slowly, but he inter- 
 rupted her. 
 
 "You do not like my old name. I beg you take 
 my Christian name on your sweet lips, for here we 
 can hardly seal our vows as lovers may." 
 
 "Edward," she said, with a rich glow rising from 
 her cheeks to her beautiful eyes, "I have read in 
 this hour another lesson with this dear one of love, 
 that somehow the high purposes in each of us, 
 which it makes more sacred, will require of us 
 suffering in that love itself which now seems to give 
 us more strength and promise of success. Can our 
 plighted love bear to give its own price of pain for 
 the privilege of this mutual and undivided work that 
 is worthy of our whole lifetime?" 
 
 "Darling," said Nelson thoughtfully, "you have 
 seen farther than I today into the mysteries of re- 
 demption, I have seen the glory in its glistening 
 whiteness; you have heard the whisperings of the 
 glorified. You speak of sufferings," he continued, 
 "by which this work of ours may be accomplished. 
 Your love, so true and deep, so sensitive to its perils, 
 has opened my eyes also to see. It would be perfect 
 love that casteth out fear. It is the love of our 
 hearts, yet only human. It shrinks from tests like 
 suffering in itself, like separation; but if God be in 
 
 158 
 
On the Heights 
 
 us and in this love, now we may trust to its fidelity. 
 I know not how to name this fear, but whenever it 
 comes let us remember that true love will not ask 
 us to sacrifice a purpose great and noble, for which 
 we have prepared to live, though it may lead us into 
 tests that our single lives would not have needed." 
 
 Eulalia looked up into his face pale with high 
 resolve. 
 
 ''You have spoken sweetly, bravely, Edward dar- 
 ling, and as my own heart wished to speak, but so 
 much better. You are my guide and helper hence- 
 forth, and I shall be your inspirer and sympathizer, 
 but let us each hold at any cost to ourselves the 
 sacred duty of our lifework." 
 
 The love light shone steadily in her eyes now — 
 the shadow had passed. 
 
 They rose, and as they were approaching Mar- 
 garet and her father Eulalia said: 
 
 "I shall begin my work ere I leave yonder lake 
 below us that has mirrored in its depths the mys- 
 tery of our love. I will ask our Bishop to accept 
 me now for his helper to redeem the Navajos," 
 
 Redford now came toward them alone, while 
 Margaret halted to talk with a friend who had just 
 come up the mountain. 
 
 "Mr. Redford," said Nelson, "we have a great 
 favor to ask of you. Will you, who have so long 
 been a faithful friend, give your willing consent 
 that I may become the protector, if I am not worthy 
 to be the guide, of this dear girl? See, you read in 
 her own happy face the urging of my plea !" 
 
 159 
 
Chunda 
 
 "I wouldn't try," said Redford, with a demure 
 look, "to separate this mountain from that lake if I 
 had the power. I think I would try my faith, if I 
 were so disposed, on some easier task than to keep 
 apart two hearts and lives that have been made one 
 by nature and grace. No; rather with my consent 
 I give you my heartiest congratulations ! Marga- 
 ret," he continued, for they had now come near to 
 her, "look at your wayward sister!" 
 
 Margaret turned her head, gave one glance at 
 the radiant faces, and sprang to her feet. It was 
 but a moment ere she had reached Eulalia and, 
 throwing her arms around her neck, whispered 
 laughingly one word in her ears, and kissed her 
 again and again on both cheeks. 
 
 Then, holding her hand out to Nelson, she said : 
 
 "A sweeter, rarer flower was never plucked than 
 you have taken to yourself today. Captain Nelson, 
 you are indeed a happy man. God keep you to- 
 gether !" 
 
 i6o 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 A woman's pleading 
 
 The spacious parlor of Blue Mountain Lake 
 Hotel is filled with guests from the hotels and cot- 
 tages in the vicinity of the lake invited by the Bishop 
 of New Mexico to listen to an address on "Navajo 
 Women and Their Needs." The novelty of the 
 topic and the beauty and attractiveness of the 
 speaker, already celebrated in this region, have 
 drawn together an eager audience on this Sunday 
 evening, 
 
 Eulalia's engagement to Captain Nelson has 
 stirred the community to an extraordinary degree 
 of favorable comment. It has met the Bishop's 
 hearty approval, and has commended also her desire 
 to begin at once her enterprise, to which she is now 
 impelled with greater intensity. Instead of dwelling 
 selfishly and indolently in the happy fulfillment of 
 their mutual love by its plighted troth, it has added 
 an impetus to her life by enlarging her sympathies 
 and ennobling her thoughts upon the distresses and 
 needs of her people. The Bishop is now ready to 
 further the plans which he had himself so long 
 cherished for the relief of this needy portion of his 
 charge. 
 
 Eulalia, with a simple trust in God's power to 
 make effective an appeal to the hearts of her 
 
 i6i 
 
Chunda 
 
 friends, has dXiring the week recalled many scenes 
 of her girlhood till she left her people. Her quick- 
 ened sympathies have dispelled her fears, and she is 
 impatient to give her message. 
 
 Her own plans are distinct in her mind. During 
 her medical studies and practice she has carefully 
 watched for everything that would be valuable to 
 her in the inauguration of a hospital for women. 
 With a practical mind she has also noted the cost as 
 well as use of every appliance in nursing and sur- 
 gery that would be useful to her. One of her 
 patients, moved by her skill and devotion to her pro- 
 fession, has interested a friend who was an eminent 
 architect to make plans for a hospital building. 
 These she has now with her, and has often con- 
 templated them with quickened zeal to begin her 
 undertaking. Her faith that it can be accomplished 
 has been strong. God will open the way, she is 
 confident, when she shall need the funds. 
 
 Now the hour has come for her to act. She is 
 happy, earnest and humbly confident that she can 
 speak from her heart, and for a real and pressing 
 need. Will not this be enough to move and persuade 
 those who have the ability and willingness to act 
 nobly and generously for their fellow beings ? 
 
 The audience was chatting with the freedom 
 characteristic of a parlor entertainment, when 
 Eulalia, following the Bishop with Mrs. Redford, 
 made her way through the company to a small 
 table in the center of the room opposite the huge 
 fireplace. The chairs had been arranged so that 
 
 162 
 
A Woman's Pleading 
 
 the people were facing Eulalia, on whose face the 
 cheerful blaze was casting a varying light as she 
 stood near the wall. 
 
 The Bishop offered two collects from the evening 
 prayer service. Then he introduced Miss Lawton 
 with a brief but hearty recommendation to the 
 guests, believing that her graceful but modest pres- 
 ence would make the most favorable impression. 
 
 "Dear friends," she said, in a low, sweet voice, 
 'T take your hands tonight and ask your sympathy 
 and aid in the work I have chosen to do for my 
 people. I seem to myself to be one of you, for my 
 education and training for ten years have been 
 wholly with the kindest citizens of this great repub- 
 lic. I am a foster child of Americans, but I am an 
 orphan of the Navajos. JMy heart has not forgot- 
 ten its kinswomen, and I love my adopted people for 
 all they are and have been to me. It is my strong- 
 est desire to make my nation one with yours, at least 
 in your virtues, your charities, your lovable traits. 
 If they cannot be as wise or graceful, I would have 
 them become in time as good and beneficent as you 
 are. 
 
 "I pray you to hear what my kinspeople are now, 
 and what they need to learn, so that the sweet chari- 
 ties of a Christian land may include them in the 
 words of my Master for you : 'Inasmuch as ye have 
 done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye 
 have done it unto me.' 
 
 "I was brought up in a hogan until I was a maiden 
 of fifteen years. My mother, blessed to my earliest 
 
 163 
 
Chunda 
 
 memory for the comfort and strength she gave to 
 all her sisters in their need, went from hogan to 
 hogan to minister to the sick. The plight of a 
 Navajo woman when disease has seized upon her is 
 indeed sad. She has no bed but a pile of blankets 
 on the damp earth, no protection from the rain or 
 snow or cold when the storms blow through the 
 walls of branches intertwined and plastered imper- 
 fectly with mud. She has ng food suitable for the 
 weakened stomach, no baths for her fevered body, 
 no cleanly garments or wraps, no disinfectants to 
 destroy the germs of disease. Her lungs, through 
 exposures from earliest childhood, are easily affected 
 by dread consumption ; her blood, weakened by lack 
 of nourishment, is filled with fever, 
 
 "Her children, if she be a mother, are uncared 
 for and crying for food. Her husband hates sick- 
 ness, and often leaves his offspring to the mercy and 
 care of some other woman, whose hogan is distant, 
 and leaves his wife to die through neglect and the 
 comfortless conditions of her illness. 
 
 *Tn the hour of woman's sorest need she is no 
 better protected. In childbirth the care of her help- 
 less babe in its earliest hours is committed to igno- 
 rant and unpitying hands. Only the strongest chil- 
 dren can long survive the exposure, and soon the 
 weaker and more feeble, inheriting disease, espe- 
 cially if they are girls, pine away and die. 
 
 "These are some of the sad conditions of woman- 
 hood among the Navajos, But often a woman there 
 has a heart that feels deeply for her sisters. So it 
 
 164 
 
A Woman's Pleading 
 
 was with my mother. She learned the arts of mirs- 
 ing and midwifery, and for love's sake only, with 
 scarcely ever a reward, she alleviated the sorrows 
 of women, and saved their children from sickness 
 and death. Well was she named Hedipa. She 
 brought comfort, and the character of her work 
 and the devotion of her life to it ennobled her mind 
 and made her a willing convert to the Christian 
 faith when she first heard from my honored friend 
 and teacher here tonight of Him who 'carried our 
 sorrows' and 'was acquainted with grief.' When 
 after three years I returned to the reservation from 
 school I sought for this mother, only to find her 
 resting in the moments of dying in the inexpressible 
 comfort from the presence of the 'Lover of her 
 soul.' 
 
 "It was most natural that, by my frequent pres- 
 ence with my mother in these hogans of the sick, 
 I should learn to pity them and seek to aid them. 
 The early bent of my mind appeared when I 
 learned how white people bear one another's sutTer- 
 ings ; how they lift burdens from the weak ; how, 
 by remedies and skillful nursing, they heal the sick. 
 
 "I bethought me of doing for my Navajos as I 
 had seen them serve their own. Especially would 
 I try to save Navajo womanhood from its degrada- 
 tion, its despair, and the quick inroads of disease by 
 administering to my sisters the comforts with which 
 you surround yours. 
 
 "Dear friends, the Navajo woman is worth sav- 
 ing. She has a peculiar place among her people. 
 
 165 
 
Chunda 
 
 God has given her the spirit of industry, of pru- 
 dence, of kindness and of perseverance. She is the 
 stronger mind among her people by reason of these 
 very traits. She is the provider and conductor of 
 her home. 
 
 "The Navajo man has his place, but it is oftener 
 that of a boarder and an ornament than as a column 
 of strength to the household. He is great in coun- 
 cils, and in entertainments for his people. His legs 
 are strong for dancing, and his jaws are mighty 
 for talking and eating. He has a heart that is brave 
 for fighting, but a hand that is weak for working. 
 
 "But the fault lies in his traditions rather than in 
 his natural abilities. Tradition has been kind to 
 the Navajo man's conscience as to the necessity of 
 toil. Tradition has established his dignity and 
 made the woman the chief sustainer of it and the 
 manager and shaper of his simple household. 
 
 "The Navajo, therefore, does not condemn him- 
 self in this his ornamental position any more than 
 the well-dressed sentinel who stands as guard, simply 
 stands at the gate of your dwelling, or as the police- 
 man who makes his beat from one street corner to 
 another, clothed with authority and absent for an 
 emergency. To the Navajo man, however, the 
 emergency seldom comes now, for we have to be at 
 peace with the white man and have no near Indian 
 neighbors ; consequently, he cannot be blamed for 
 waiting in idleness, since neither his traditions nor 
 the American nation have thus far taught him 
 
 better. 
 
 i66 
 
A Woman's Pleading 
 
 "When the school, my friends, shall have 
 awakened to his consciousness the manhood of 
 labor, of providing for the family, of giving com- 
 forts to the sick and caring for the weak, and of 
 improving himself and his nation, the Navajo man 
 will be found as efficient as are often your sons, 
 when, reduced from wealth and ease to the neces- 
 sity of toil, they take foremost places in business 
 and professions. 
 
 "We all need education. The United States 
 government began to educate its Indian wards by 
 choosing rather the sons than the daughters. But 
 the Apache mother shapes the character of her sons. 
 She, not the father, by better-cooked food and bet- 
 ter-designed clothing and the comforts of a cabin, 
 however rough it may be, can make her boy unwill- 
 ing to go back to the hogan and the blanket. 
 
 "Happily, the Navajo mother has by tradition and 
 by nature the right of influence, and of determining 
 the economies of the home. The Navajo is of one 
 race with the Apache — the wildest and most savage 
 Apache. Let us try a few arts of living which you 
 can teach us, and we shall easily assume the customs 
 of a higher-bred people. Let the Navajo woman 
 become like yourselves, honored hearers, so far as 
 you have become what you are by education. 
 
 "The Navajo woman is wifely in her taste and in 
 her morals. She would ever be faithful to the love 
 of one husband and to the care of her children. 
 She is progressive. She learns through quick per- 
 ceptions the qualities which women like vourselves 
 
 167 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 possess. She is religious. The Shamans have 
 strongest hold on her through her faithful worship 
 of the nature god of the Navajos and her fear of the 
 spirits of the air, but they rule the Navajo men 
 through their love of idleness. 
 
 "The Navajo woman is diligent. She raises the 
 wool which she weaves into clothing for her tribe. 
 She is influenced by kindness, and does not forget 
 the hands that have ministered to her, especially in 
 her suffering. 
 
 *'AIy friends, you are indeed Christians in your 
 charities. This beautiful land, these great cities 
 where we live are full of the works of those who 
 love their kind for the orphan, for the aged, for the 
 sick. But there are many, for whom I plead, so 
 far off that they have no helpers. No eye that pities 
 sees them ; no hand that is skilled saves them by its 
 ministering. You have true sympathy for work 
 that will permanently change and raise your fellow 
 men to something like your own high position 
 among those who call this beautiful earth their 
 home. I pray you, therefore, to consider such an 
 opportunity as I may, though unworthily, open to 
 you for your disinterested, your purely unselfish 
 charity. 
 
 "In the Cafion de Chelly, the home of my child- 
 hood, there is a beautiful meadow a mile long and 
 half a mile wide. It is surrounded by massive cliffs 
 whose peaks rise in curious shapes above the canon 
 walls. A stream of pure water runs through it, fed 
 by springs in the farther end of the gorge. Its air 
 
 i68 
 
A Woman's Pleading 
 
 is that of an elevation of three thousand feet above 
 the sea. It is dry and pure and heaUhfiil, and this 
 valley is sheltered from high winds and blinding- 
 sandstorms which prevail on the mesas above it. 
 
 "I have the permission of the government at 
 Washington, obtained by our honored Bishop, of 
 founding on an island-like elevation in the midst 
 of this valley a hospital which shall be a house of 
 comfort for the women and children of my people. 
 This plateau is in a location central to the great 
 Navajo reservation, and the Canon de Chelly at the 
 seasons of planting and harvesting of crops and 
 fruits is always populous. 
 
 "One of your skilled architects has planned for 
 us this building for the hospital. It can be erected 
 by the aid of willing Navajos and a few skilled 
 American workmen for ten thousand dollars. It 
 will be a permanent structure with every needed 
 convenience. Two thousand dollars will equip the 
 hospital. Then five thousand dollars yearly will 
 maintain it as a free shelter for the sick, to whom 
 I will devote my medical services and also superin- 
 tend the trained nurses who have already offered 
 their iiwaluable cooperation in this Christian enter- 
 prise. 
 
 "We are assured of protection from the honor- 
 able Commissioner of Indian Affairs and the hon- 
 orable Secretary of War, who will station a detach- 
 ment of soldiers at Chin-a-li whenever there shall 
 be need. With the favor of the President himself, 
 who has made every department at Washington 
 
 169 
 
Chunda 
 
 friendly to my purpose ; with the Christian counsels 
 of my beloved and honored Bishop, who will be the 
 responsible trustee of the funds provided by good 
 people, I make my humble plea to you tonight for 
 my own, for Christ's little ones, for the poor and 
 ignorant, the sorrowing and helpless in my native 
 land!" 
 
 As Eulalia ceased a genuine applause came from 
 the guests, but all remained in their seats as if bound 
 by the spell of a good angel's presence and voice 
 speaking to them of heaven-born charity. 
 
 The silence grew oppressive. The Bishop stepped 
 forward and asked if there was anyone who wished 
 to make response to this young woman's words. 
 
 "Yes," said a lady of striking presence and in- 
 fluence, "I think our hearts are all touched by this 
 story of women's and children's need, and by the 
 devotion of this life of no ordinary powers to their 
 salvation. I would like to be one of this company 
 tonight who will build that house of shelter and 
 comfort to the sick in that beautiful spot. There 
 are a hundred willing and able women here who 
 can do this Samaritan work to begin the redemption 
 of a nation from barbarism. I will speak for ten 
 of these women and pledge one thousand dollars." 
 
 "And I," said another, "will speak for twenty 
 and pledge two thousand dollars." 
 
 "I will speak for five and pledge five hundred 
 dollars." 
 
 "I will soeak for twenty and pledge two thousand 
 dollars." 
 
 170 
 
A Woman's Pleading 
 
 *'I," said a young woman from the farther part 
 of the company, "will speak for myself and pledge 
 two hundred and fifty dollars." 
 
 "And I," said another near her, "for my hus- 
 band and myself, will give five hundred dollars." 
 
 Then came voices from men and women for sums 
 of one hundred, fifty, and five hundred dollars, until 
 the ten thousand dollars was pledged and the names 
 passed up with their cards to the Bishop. 
 
 The amazed and grateful girl had at first joined 
 in the enthusiasm that the larger subscriptions had 
 excited among the guests, but when one and another 
 rose to make their pledges, and the amount rapidly 
 increased, Eulalia's smiles were turned to tears of 
 gratitude, and she hid her face on the shoulder of 
 Mrs. Redford. 
 
 In a few moments she recovered her self-control 
 and rose to bow to the audience when the Bishop 
 announced the completion of the subscription. 
 
 "My friends," said the Right Reverend Bishop 
 of New Mexico, "it would have been nothing ex- 
 traordinary for one to secure the investment of ten 
 thousand dollars in good railroad stocks from this 
 company, but it is of God that you have given so 
 freely tonight. Thy people shall be willing in the 
 day of thy power.' 
 
 "I am happy to say that already the auxiliary 
 societies of an Eastern diocese have put into my 
 hands a sum sufficient to equip this building as the 
 originator has planned, and I pledge for them two 
 thousand dollars." 
 
 171 
 
Chunda 
 
 Then Redford told briefly the story of Hedipa's 
 trusting soul as it passed to a better world, and a 
 hymn was sung before the Bishop gave the bene- 
 diction. 
 
 As the guests were dispersing, a gracious woman 
 in deep mourning, in whose face shone benevolence 
 in combination with great good sense, addressed 
 Eulalia : 
 
 ''Will you promise me a week at my country home 
 in Whitby on the Hudson River after September 
 first?" 
 
 The Bishop turned toward her as Eulalia hesi- 
 tated at the stranger's request. 
 
 "Why, my dear Airs. Sansom, you have main- 
 tained this evening more self-restraint than I ever 
 knew you before to possess when any good work 
 was to be done!" 
 
 "Yes, Bishop, but this little woman pulled too 
 hard at my heartstrings for me to speak." 
 
 "Eulalia, you will find a good friend in this dear 
 lady. Give her all the time she wants from you." 
 
 "I shall gladly follow where you lead me," Eulalia 
 replied, turning cjuickly to the lady, "and will be 
 most happy to be with you, madam." 
 
 There was unspeakable joy in Oldham Cottage 
 that night. There was joy among the angels. 
 
 172 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 A GODSPEED 
 
 Captain Nelson wisely kept himself from obser- 
 vation in that parlor assembly on Sunday evening. 
 This he could do easily, for the rooni was crowded 
 to the doors. But he listened with a throbbing 
 heart. He was astonished at the entire forgetful- 
 ness of self in Eulalia's address. It was free from 
 apparent effort to command attention, and yet 
 riveted every eye upon the speaker with a response 
 to it by the company which conclusively showed the 
 power of its direct and simple speech. Eulalia's 
 personal traits doubtless contributed much to its 
 effect. It was a truthful expression of her nature. 
 The arguments were hidden in her statement of 
 facts, and her humor and pathos were mingled with 
 sincere respect for those who listened and those for 
 whom she pleaded. 
 
 Nelson was proud of his betrothed as her address 
 thus revealed her ability, her acquirements, her sin- 
 cerity and her personal beauty in a new light. He 
 was prouder still that she was true and loyal to her 
 birth and had not been alienated from her nation 
 and kindred by her education, nor in her conceit 
 despised them because they were lowly and ignorant. 
 While her Christian faith was sincere and powerful, 
 its transformation of her character left her still one 
 
 173 
 
Chunda 
 
 with them. In his heart he praised her single- 
 minded devotion. He saw her going before him in 
 her efforts for their people, but he acquiesced in that 
 with a genuine admiration of her ability to do so, 
 and secretly rejoiced that his own plans would give 
 fullest effect to her undertakings. 
 
 This first week of bethrothal had ennobled each 
 by the consciousness not only of a true and strong 
 love, but with the sense that they were both work- 
 ing with God for the redemption of his children. 
 
 "Eulalia," said the Bishop on Monday morning, 
 "what will you do now with this money that is 
 pledged for your hospital?" 
 
 "I will go at once to prepare the way for its 
 erection as soon as the funds shall be placed in your 
 hands." 
 
 "But how can you do this alone?" 
 
 "I will go back to spend the winter at the agency, 
 and personally meet my kinsfolk. Can I not get 
 appointed as assistant physician to the agency?" 
 
 "I will make a personal appeal to the Commis- 
 sioner for you, if that is desirable." 
 
 "A winter thus passed with my people, and with 
 whatever skill I can command in my practice, will 
 win their confidence and favor." 
 
 "Will you make known your purpose to them ?" 
 
 "By all means. With the authority and duties 
 of my position I shall be safe from the Shamans' 
 wrath, and I may gradually find the men who will 
 aid me in gathering materials for the building. 
 Early in the spring, "Eulalia continued, "if you 
 
 174 
 
A Godspeed 
 
 will get the Department to survey and appropriate 
 the land, I will be ready to begin building. In one 
 year from now we shall be ready to receive our 
 patients. Alas ! I know too well how soon we shall 
 be straightened to accommodate and care for them 
 all." 
 
 The Bishop perceived with pleasure Eulalia's 
 forethought and ability to direct her affairs. 
 
 The party left Oldham Cottage on Wednesday. 
 Though the stage was driven to the hotel steps at 
 an early hour, many guests were standing on the 
 veranda to bid them good-bye. Eulalia's departure, 
 through the favor she had so quickly won, excited 
 unusual interest. As she was descending the steps 
 two gentlemen accosted her, and urged her to 
 accept in behalf of the men who had listened to her 
 a purse to aid in her personal expenses while pre- 
 paring for her building. It contained a hundred 
 gold double eagles. 
 
 In a few grateful words she sent her warmest 
 thanks to the donors for their timely gift, and in her 
 excitement climbed to the highest seat on the coach. 
 Not a few tears were dropped amid the waving of 
 handkerchiefs for the girl who had come like an 
 angel of mercy among them, and many a deep 
 "God bless you !" was heard as the coach moved off 
 and disappeared in the turn of the road beneath the 
 trees. 
 
 Eulalia's resignation of her position at the hos- 
 pital in New York brought to her mingled regrets 
 and congratulations, and one or two of the nurses 
 
 175 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 begged her to send for them as soon as she could 
 use their services. 
 
 Mrs. Sansom received her guest at Whitby with 
 a tenderness that showed the deep impression 
 already made upon her. She was a widow left with 
 a large property and two children. Her son, physi- 
 cally strong, had honored in his college course his 
 father's reputation as a successful merchant, but her 
 daughter's hcallh had failed, and only during the last 
 winter she had died, leaving her mother inconsolable. 
 
 "Miss Lawton," said her friend one day, "I have 
 looked forward to this visit with the hope that you 
 would make clear to me the way to fulfill a sacred 
 trust. You have won my own and my son's respect 
 and confidence by your loveliness of character and 
 by your clear views of how your plans are to be 
 accomplished. Your success in your medical pro- 
 fession, I am told, is assured in whatever position 
 you choose to use your gifts and acquirements; but 
 I am sure that in your own character you bear the 
 seal of God's favor as a chosen instrument of ele- 
 vating and blessing your nation. My daughter's 
 estate was left to me to be devoted especially to the 
 relief of suffering. The income of one hundred 
 thousand dollars is available for this purpose during 
 my lifetime. Then the principal can be given in 
 trust to the worthiest and most efficient object which 
 it has aided. I felt during your address it might be 
 most wisely used by your hands, and both my son 
 and myself are glad to offer the entire income for 
 five years to maintain your hospital work among the 
 
 176 
 
A Godspeed 
 
 Navajos. If it shall become permanently established, 
 the principal will be given at my decease, in trust to 
 the church or to the government, for its continued 
 support. Will you accept me, therefore, dear Miss 
 La\\i;on, as a life partner in your ministrations by 
 the means I will confide to you from my daughter's 
 estate? While I live it shall be held in trust for the 
 Hedipa Hospital in Cafion de Chelly, and as the 
 Helen Sansom Endowment Fund when I am gone." 
 
 Eulalia was silent as the full meaning of this offer 
 unfolded itself to her mind. In her soul was the 
 surprise of faith, the conscious effort to express her 
 boundless gratitude to her benefactor, the solemn 
 sense of the Divine Spirit coworking with her. 
 Then she impulsively threw herself at Mrs. San- 
 som's feet, and with the guilelessness of a child 
 looked up into her face with speechless love. 
 
 "God knows," at length she said, *'how my heart 
 has been drawn to you while I have been under your 
 roof. I have thought of nothing like this when I 
 have hoped you would yet show your sympathy with 
 my cherished object, but I am overwhelmed with the 
 sense of my Saviour's love in this request of yours. 
 He tells me by it that I am his child, his servant, but 
 he makes me feel also that I must walk through 
 some great sorrow to perfect my work for him. Yet 
 I will follow whithersoever he leads. My heart is 
 full of the joy of faith fulfilled that my purpose is 
 also his. How I shall love you always, dear Mrs. 
 Sansom, always, for joining by such a gift the name 
 that is dearest to you with that of my mother!" 
 
 177 
 
Chunda 
 
 Mrs. Sanson! held in tenderest embrace Eulalia's 
 clinging form, around which she had cast her arms 
 in making this gift. Then she kissed her brow and 
 said cheerily through her tears: 
 
 "My dear girl, I will make my gift known to your 
 Bishop, to whom I have already confided my 
 thoughts; and my son, who is in full accord with 
 me, has promised to have the necessary legal papers 
 made, that your mind may be at rest and you may 
 have the hearty cooperation of the government." 
 
 "Thank you, dear Mrs. Sansom, beyond all words 
 of gratitude. Dearer than your gifts even will be 
 the assurance of your constant love and prayers 
 that I may have the wisdom which is from above." 
 
 The next week Captain Nelson returned to 
 Hampton, and the Bishop of New Mexico went with 
 Eulalia to Washington to perfect arrangements with 
 the Indian Bureau. The Commissioner and the 
 Secretary of the Interior willingly acceded to the 
 suggestion that Dr. Lawton be appointed as agency 
 physician at Fort Defiance in place of the incumbent, 
 who had already applied to be transferred to a 
 vacancy in the Pine Ridge agency. Their ready 
 consent was easily given, for the humane projects 
 of the Bishop and his protegee were not in conflict 
 with the government policy of educating all its 
 Indian pupils. 
 
 Eulalia's acquirements and successful medical 
 record had also been carefully investigated and ap- 
 proved. Her personal attractions confirmed the 
 judgment already formed that, as an educated 
 
 178 
 
A Godspeed 
 
 woman of her tribe, she had special fitness to accom- 
 pHsh a work which would inevitably be in conflict 
 with the traditions and system of Shamanism in her 
 tribe. The question was now fully considered how 
 to make this effort an eminent success with the 
 unobtrusive protection of the army. 
 
 It was decided that orders should be given to the 
 general commanding the Department of New Mex- 
 ico and Arizona to afford all needed protection at 
 any and all times at his discretion to those engaged 
 in the conduct of hospital work among the Navajos. 
 Similar orders were issued to the agent of the Nava- 
 jos by the Commissioner of the Indian Bureau. 
 
 Eulalia begged permission to call upon the Presi- 
 dent, and one evening he sent to her a note request- 
 ing her to come to the White House, and after kind 
 inquiries about herself and tribe the President gave 
 her this message to them, to use always when it 
 would further her projects : 
 
 "Tell them that I am sorry for their sufferings; 
 that I wish them to improve their lives by diligent 
 labor and following the example of good men ; and 
 that I show my earnest care for them by sending 
 back to them you, yourself, one of their own chil- 
 dren, to heal them and teach them how to keep 
 themselves and their children healthy and happy." 
 
 With a light heart Eulalia returned with the 
 Bishop to New York. In two weeks she parted with 
 the loved family of her benefactor and was speed- 
 ing on her way to her distant charge, with their 
 heartiest blessings. 
 
 179 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 A BROKEN r-LEDGE 
 
 The members of the Committee on Indian Ap- 
 propriations of the House of Representatives were 
 sitting, in the easiest positions they could find, in 
 their committee room in the Capitol at Washington 
 one morning in January. Mr. Elton, their chair- 
 man, had represented his state during many terms 
 of Congress, and his commendations of any propo- 
 sition had great weight with the committee. When, 
 therefore, he introduced to them Mr. Redford, as a 
 friend who had long experience with some of the 
 Apache tribes, who were among the largest and 
 most difficult of all for whom Congress had to legis- 
 late, unusual attention was given to this gentle- 
 man's statements. 
 
 Redford referred in his introduction to the obli- 
 gations of the United States to provide schools and 
 other helps to civilization by the treaty of 1868 with 
 the Navajos. 
 
 "This treaty," he stated, "was made when indus- 
 trial education in its present efficiency and extent 
 and variety of trades and occupations was not 
 thought of for our own children, much less for the 
 Indian wards of the government, or for the colored 
 population of the South." 
 
 Then he quoted the requirements of this treaty : 
 180 
 
A Broken Pledge 
 
 " The Navajos shall compel their children, male 
 and female, between the ages of six and sixteen 
 years to attend school, and it is hereby made the 
 duty of the agent for said Indians to see that this 
 stipulation is strictly complied with ; and the United 
 States agrees that for every thirty children between 
 said ages, who can be induced or compelled to attend 
 school, a house shall be provided; and a teacher 
 competent to teach the elementary branches of an 
 English education shall be furnished, who will reside 
 among said Indians, and faithfully discharge his or 
 her duties as a teacher.' 
 
 "The provisions of this article w-ere to continue 
 ten years. So discreet and experienced an official 
 of the government as General W. T. Sherman had 
 signed this treaty, convinced of its propriety and 
 justice and need. The obligation of the government 
 had been but partially fulfilled by the erection of one 
 schoolhouse and the maintenance of a school at the 
 Fort Defiance agency in the reservation. 
 
 "Progress in education in this country had shown 
 a better way to elevate an ignorant and savage tribe 
 than to teach them the elements of the English lan- 
 guage. The separation of the pupils from the 
 immediate influences of the liogan and their idle 
 parents, and placing them in large schools w^hich 
 combined many advantages, was now believed to be 
 the most effective. These w-ere furnished also with 
 the tools and implements for manual training suited 
 to raise them from their low^ conditions. With these 
 are careful instructors in the simpler handicrafts of 
 
 i8i 
 
Chunda 
 
 carpentering, shocmaking, tailoring, turning, paint- 
 ing, wood carving and furniture making, and ma- 
 chinist's work in blacksmithing and wagon making 
 and harness work, with varieties of vegetable gar- 
 dening, fruit and flower culture, and farming and 
 stock raising. The instructions for girls are of 
 more domestic kinds, such as housekeeping, cooking, 
 sewing, dairy work, weaving, spinning and some 
 higher cultivation of their industrial tastes, in music 
 and other arts. 
 
 "Thus a practical education for peoples of low 
 culture or barbarism was in less direct approach to 
 the mental faculties than in ordinary conditions of 
 civilization. The fingers, the hands, the muscles of 
 the body generally should first be educated and the 
 inventive powers called forth, before the faculties 
 which encourage physical indolence were aroused 
 by wasting most of the school hours in teaching 
 reading, spelling and writing of English, arithmetic 
 and the keeping of accounts, which are best taken 
 up as a recreation or as the necessity of their manual 
 occupations required. Their moral and religious 
 training ought to be in the simplest principles of 
 virtue and piety, and taught by practical example 
 and observation of their needs in the higher life into 
 which they are daily being introduced by the occu- 
 pations and associations with one another." 
 
 Having rapidly presented these ideas in a few 
 direct and simple words, Redford said : 
 
 "Gentlemen, I have come to ask you today to in- 
 sert in the bill for Indian appropriations fifty thou- 
 
 182 
 
A Broken Pledge 
 
 sand dollars for the establishing and erection and 
 furnishing of buildings of an industrial school at 
 Chin-a-li. I am convinced that it will do more to 
 raise that tribe of seventeen thousand or eighteen 
 thousand savages from barbarism than ten times the 
 amount which has been expended in other ways. 
 
 "And, gentlemen, I have brought with me by per- 
 mission of your honored chairman, to urge this 
 request, one whose arguments may justly affect you 
 more than my own. He is a full-blooded Navajo, 
 the son of one of the Navajo chiefs, and an example 
 in himself of the remarkable capacity of his tribe 
 and of their fitness for a practical manual education 
 as well as for the development of the higher facul- 
 ties. Allow me to present to you the Commandant 
 of Hampton College, Virginia, and Superintendent 
 of the Saxton Industrial Building in that institution 
 — Captain Edward Nelson." 
 
 The attention of the committee was at once 
 aroused. They had heard in several ways of this 
 remarkable pupil and instructor, whose origin had 
 been in one of the most savage tribes in this country. 
 
 Nelson's manly figure and bearing impressed them 
 as he rose to speak. He said : 
 
 "Gentlemen, it would ill become me to attempt 
 to convince you or persuade you by any of the arts 
 of the advocate to make this proposed appropriation. 
 You are yourselves eminent as pleaders on the floors 
 of Congress and to the citizens of your states. I 
 should be unequal to your arguments if you opposed 
 me. I would not assume to discuss a policy of legis- 
 
 183 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 lation to which yon are opposed, or to show reasons 
 for opinions I may hold that differ from yours, 
 because we have not the same point of view. You 
 represent the dominant white people of this great 
 country. I come from an aboriginal race, and I 
 represent tribes that have the worst record of savage 
 warfare in this land for the last twenty-five or thirty 
 years. 
 
 "I wish only to state to you, gentlemen, in accord- 
 ance with the present adopted policy of the govern- 
 ment, the reasons why so large a sum as fifty thou- 
 sand dollars should be appropriated for an indus- 
 trial school for the Navajos. 
 
 "I am a Navajo. Moved by the words of Mr. 
 Redford, I left my tribe when I was eighteen years 
 of age to obtain an education in the East. As the 
 son of one of the Navajo chiefs, I w^as permitted 
 to hear what was said in the frequent consultations 
 of the principal men of the tribe, so that I might be 
 ready to follow my father as a chief. 
 
 "There were two parties among them, one whom 
 you would call conservatives and the other radicals. 
 Most of the tribe belonged to the conservatives, 
 clinging to all our traditions and customs and 
 jealous of yielding to the influences of the white 
 people. To this prejudice and opposition they are 
 constantly incited by the Shamans, or medicine 
 men. 
 
 "I am concerned to tell you to what they most 
 object, for in this is my plea for the proposed insti- 
 tution at Chin-a-li. 
 
A Broken Pledge 
 
 "First: To the change from the hogan to the 
 cabin or house. This, they say, would make the 
 young men disinchned to roam about the reserva- 
 tion, which naturally diverts a mind that would 
 seek knowledge. It would make them want articles 
 convenient to use in the houses, and to provide these 
 the men would have to cultivate more ground and 
 to raise larger crops or larger flocks of sheep and 
 herds of horses and cattle. It would change their 
 food, for with the fireplace or stove comes better- 
 cooked food to be eaten on tables with knives and 
 forks, plates and spoons and cups, and the food 
 thus cooked and eaten would disgust them with the 
 coarse food to which they had been accustomed in 
 the hogan life. 
 
 "Second : They are opposed to the use of tools. 
 Warriors and hunters, whose occupation teaches 
 them how to use only the bow or knife or rifle, 
 would soon fall into discredit before the men who 
 could do so much with tools. They are opposed 
 to farming implements, for these make possible the 
 crops which wars disturb and destroy, so that they 
 lead to peace with the white men and furnish the 
 industrious farmer with food and clothing that the 
 idle must either beg or steal. The use of tools in 
 shops and in farming gives a desire for the knowl- 
 edge in books and papers where their uses are ex- 
 plained. But they do not fear so much the use of 
 books without manual or industrial education, for 
 it is sometimes serviceable to the tribe in their trades 
 and intercourse with the frontiersmen to know how 
 
 185 
 
CnUNDA 
 
 to read, and it has little effect on the idleness of 
 reservation life. 
 
 "Third : They are bitterly opposed to change in 
 their religion, which would rob the Shamans of their 
 power over the tribe and of their support. It would 
 destroy their dances and amusements, which have 
 more or less of a religious character, and promote 
 the power of the Shamans. The radical or progres- 
 sive part of the tribe secretly despise Shamanism, 
 and see the benefits to themselves and their children 
 from living like the white people. They feel as the 
 chief of another tribe once said here in Washington : 
 *We have nowhere on earth to go, and the Indians 
 all realize it at last. Our hope is to learn the secrets 
 of greatness and success from the white man, and 
 gradually to get the power which he has of getting 
 great things out of the soil.' 
 
 "I need not explain to you, gentlemen, the advan- 
 tages of an industrial school. They are now ac- 
 cepted by the Americans as of the largest value in 
 the education of a nation like yours, whose resources 
 of earth and soil are almost unlimited. The indus- 
 trial training of the Indian tribes is the first step to 
 their civilization and to becoming American citizens. 
 
 "The facilities of location for the proposed school 
 for the Navajos are the most advantageous in the 
 reservation. Chin-a-li is the center of the country 
 where most of the Navajos roam. They frequently 
 come to the Canon de Chelly. From this canon 
 flows an unfailing stream. Its numerous rincons 
 are fertile places that for centuries have been culti- 
 
 i86 
 
A Broken Pledge 
 
 vated. With massive and high walls on three 
 sides, they need only a fourth wall of masonry to be 
 built across their openings to become a series of 
 inexhaustible reservoirs for irrigation and me- 
 chanical purposes. Below Chin-a-li is an extended 
 plain of fertile land upon which much corn is now 
 raised that can be made to support a large popula- 
 tion by such irrigation and give opportunity for 
 training the pupils in good methods of cultivating 
 their land. It can be divided into farms assigned to 
 them by the recent severalty law and become their 
 permanent habitation. 
 
 "In the mountains near by are forests of pine and 
 of oak and mineral wealth of iron, zinc, lead, silver 
 and gold. This has been jealously guarded and con- 
 cealed from white men. The minerals used in me- 
 chanical arts are nearly all found somewhere in the 
 reservation. Cotton can be raised there, and semi- 
 tropical fruits produced from the soil of the valleys. 
 'Trom the simpler arts my people can be led up to 
 a higher state of culture, and not only their own 
 wants supplied, but, by the railroad already built on 
 the boundaries of their reservation, commerce with 
 other parts of the Southwest can be established. 
 
 "The capacity of my people for industrial pursuits 
 is proved by those few which they have with rude 
 contrivances undertaken. There are silversmiths, 
 blacksmiths and weavers among them already. 
 They naturally incline to be herders and farmers. 
 They are content only with having the best weapons 
 for war, and in all parts of the reservation have 
 
 187 
 
Chunda 
 
 Winchester rifles. I know that the three thousand 
 warriors of the tribe have arms and ammunition 
 stored for use in case of war, in places carefully hid 
 from the knowledge of the white men. 
 
 "If taught in the arts of peace, they will become 
 an element for developing Arizona and New Mexico 
 instead of a hindrance to this, as the Apache tribes 
 have been hitherto, provoked to war against Ameri- 
 cans by the cruelties and encroachments of white 
 settlers and ranchmen. 
 
 "Gentlemen, I could urge the considerations of 
 self-interest and the obligations of the United States 
 government to give just and humane treatment to 
 their Indian wards and to a people like mine, now 
 cursed by ignorance, superstition and barbarism; 
 but these thoughts belong rather to your own en- 
 lightened minds." 
 
 When Captain Nelson sat down he was requested 
 to put his remarks in writing for the further deliber- 
 ation of the committee. 
 
 The Indian Appropriation Bill when passed by 
 the House of Representatives included these items : 
 
 For the establishment and erection of buildings 
 and equipment of an industrial school at 
 Chin-a-li in the Navajo reservation $50,000 
 
 For the support of 100 pt:pils in the institution 
 
 for one (r) year 16,000 
 
 For the salaries of a superintendent and five 
 
 industrial teachers 9,000 
 
 $75,000 
 188 
 
A Broken Pledge 
 
 It was Friday morning of the last week in Feb- 
 ruary when Redford arrived in Washington, and, 
 taking np the daily paper at the breakfast table 
 in his hotel, saw the report of the Senate Com- 
 mittee on Indian Appropriations, omitting the Chin- 
 a-li Industrial School and inserting another to be 
 founded at Toltec Canon, Colorado, with an appro- 
 priation of $25,000. The bill, as reported by the 
 committee, was to be brought up for a vote immedi- 
 ately. 
 
 Redford hastened to the Capitol. He found in 
 the corridor the chairman of the Senate committee, 
 and asked the reason of the substitution. 
 
 "It has been done at the request of the Secretary 
 of the Interior," he replied. 
 
 "Is there no way in which the Chin-a-li School 
 can be restored ?" asked Redford. 
 
 "I don't know," said the Senator with an incredu- 
 lous smile, "whether the Senate will reverse the 
 final report of their committee. It is not usual." 
 
 "Dear sir," said Redford earnestly, "will you, 
 who have known so well the needs of this tribe and 
 been a consistent friend of Indian education so long, 
 now withhold your opposition if the matter comes 
 up for discussion?" 
 
 "I must stand by my own report, Mr. Redford. I 
 should be glad, however, to see your project 
 adopted, but it is hardly possible." 
 
 Redford's heart quailed for a moment. His ad- 
 versaries were indeed strong, and it seemed improb- 
 able that he could get the action of the committee 
 
 189 
 
Chun£)A 
 
 reversed. But he had not faced the foes of humanity 
 and rehgion for so many years in vain. This was 
 the fight of faith, and he would at least use his 
 weapons to the last. He hurried to the room of the 
 temporary President of the Senate, with whom he 
 was acquainted, and happily found him as he was 
 leaving it to enter the Senate Chamber. 
 
 "Will you kindly give me five minutes for counsel 
 in a matter to be acted upon today in the Senate?" 
 
 "Certainly, my dear sir. Come into my room," 
 and he opened the door. 
 
 The case was stated by Redford with an intensity 
 that needed but few words. 
 
 "You can only have that appropriation reinstated 
 by a special motion of the Senate, and by a special 
 vote. It is not probable that you will succeed," 
 said the official of the Senate. 
 
 "Can you not give me your advocacy of it in a 
 few words, Senator," said Redford, the more bold 
 because of the discouraging reply of counsel that 
 had behind it the experience of the longest service 
 of all the Senators. 
 
 "That will be impossible, gladly as I would aid 
 you. But your part of the bill will not be reached 
 until Monday. You will have time to enlist the aid 
 of Senators by your personal influence, if you care 
 to try to save your institution." 
 
 "Two days and a half," exclaimed Redford, "to 
 turn the Senate of the United States to my sup- 
 port !" and warmly thanking its chief officer for his 
 counsel he withdrew. 
 
 190 
 
A Broken Pledge 
 
 Redforci had a friend of earlier days in the Senate 
 who was a well-known champion of education and 
 human progress in Congress. He sent his card to 
 him into the Senate Chamber, and was, after some 
 delay, encouraged to see his old friend approaching 
 him in the lobby. 
 
 "Will you second the motion for the restoration 
 of the Chin-a-li appropriation, Senator, and will you 
 support it by a speech ?" 
 
 "You may certainly depend upon me, Redford, 
 for that. Who will make the motion?" 
 
 "I have had the promise of a Senator from the 
 West that he would help me. I will go to him," 
 
 "Get him to pledge his prompt action when it 
 comes up, and give me some facts written down 
 briefly to use, when I speak," said this Senator from 
 the East. 
 
 In an interview the influential Senator from the 
 West gave his promise, but he was not an old friend. 
 "Will he be a true one?" asked Redford to himself 
 as he turned away. 
 
 Then, having gone to another member of the 
 Senate and prayed for his ready support, he began 
 to enlist votes, one by one. Night and day he 
 worked, seeking Senators at their residences, on 
 their way to the Capitol, in the Senate lobbies, at 
 the hotels and urging willing supporters to influence 
 others whose votes they could carry. 
 
 Redford had made a list of every name with 
 which he had any association, or for whose state 
 he had rendered any service in his past life. To 
 
 191 
 
Chunda 
 
 each he apphed for aid. The delegate of his terri- 
 tory in the House, who had there rendered invaki- 
 able service to this bill, was an efficient ally in mov- 
 ing upon Senators of his own party. 
 
 By Monday noon, when the session of the Senate 
 began, every name on Redford's list had been solic- 
 ited for a vote, and everything possible had been 
 done. Then only did Redford cease his efforts. He 
 was sitting in the gallery of the Senate when para- 
 graph 206 for the establishment of the Chin-a-li 
 Industrial School was reached, and the Senate 
 amendment that it be stricken out was read. 
 
 "There being no objection," said the temporary 
 President of the Senate, "the report of the com- 
 mittee is — " 
 
 It was a critical moment. The Senator who 
 should have made the motion to reinsert the item is 
 silent. His word is broken. The honorable Senator 
 from the West has succumbed to the influence of the 
 Cabinet officer. 
 
 The moment of recovery is passing. A friend 
 indeed is the friend of past years. He rises and with 
 a loud voice makes the motion that the item remain 
 in the bill. It is seconded by another Senator, who 
 had also been prepared for someone's failure. 
 
 Then followed half an hour's discussion. The 
 chairman of the Committee on Indian Appropria- 
 tions gave a half-hearted support to his report, and 
 the vote was called for viva voce. It was declared 
 at once by the presiding officer as lost. 
 
 A division was called for and resulted in a vote 
 192 
 
A Broken Pledge 
 
 of forty-two to thirty-six in favor of the Chin-a-li 
 appropriation. 
 
 *'We have it," said the Senator who had so val- 
 iantly defended Redford's cause. "There is no need 
 of the yeas and nays." 
 
 Redford bowed his head in speechless thanks. 
 To his faith a Higher Power had brought the vic- 
 tory, and the morning of redemption was now dawn- 
 ing on that distant reservation where barbarism had 
 ever held undisputed sway. 
 
 193 
 
Ill 
 
 195 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 NIZENNI 
 
 "When will Nizenni come! Oh, See-sla! I have 
 waited long, and my heart within me is like a stone." 
 
 "Nizenni will make it light and send away the 
 evil spirit that crushes you down. She is wonder- 
 ful, Chay-way. Her laugh is like summer. It is 
 always bright and warm when she is near." 
 
 *'0h, Wi-jee, do not let the horrid Shaman touch 
 me, then. Keep him away from me till Nizenni sees 
 me. What will she do for me?" 
 
 "Chay-way, Nizenni, with her tiny powders, will 
 make your poor head quiet its pain and give you 
 sleep." 
 
 "But, See-sla, there are many miles to travel and 
 the dark canon to pass. When did she start from 
 the agency?" 
 
 "Villarde left there at midday. He said Nizenni's 
 horse was saddled and waiting, but three women 
 were keeping her with stories of theiir pain, 
 and one came with her boy's arm broken just as she 
 was ready to start. She turned two sick men over 
 to her assistant in the office, who talks with the 
 men and gives them medicine, but the boy she would 
 not leave, Villarde said, until his arm was made 
 straight and bound up with sticks and hung in a 
 scarf from his neck." 
 
 "But, See-sla, will Nizenni come all alone?" 
 197 
 
Chunda 
 
 "No, Chay-way, two Navajo police will guard 
 her through the canon, for it will be long after mid- 
 night before she can reach this cabin. Now try 
 again to sleep, Chay-way. Wi-jee w'ill wake you 
 when Nizenni comes." 
 
 With a moan the sick woman turned upon her low 
 couch of Navajo blankets. Her face was flushed 
 with fever, and her head seemed ready to split with 
 its pain. For three days it had been intolerable 
 after a week of misery, from which the simple reme- 
 dies of her nurse had given her but little relief. 
 
 Ere long Chay-way sunk into a stupor. The 
 watcher stepped softly away, and stood outside of 
 the cabin door listening keenly to the sounds of the 
 night. Then from a heap of pinon boughs broken 
 into fragments she took an armful, and carried it to 
 a ledge thirty or forty yards away from the cabin. 
 From this she looked over the dark valley below. 
 She was motionless for five minutes ; not a breath 
 of air stirred, but she was peering intently into the 
 darkness. Then she suddenly turned and lighted 
 the wood. Its white flame darted up into the sky. 
 A distant whoop responded to the signal, and Wi-jee 
 returned with a smile of satisfaction to the cabin, 
 threw a pitchy stick of pinon on the coals in the fire- 
 place, and watched the face of the sleeper. 
 
 The sick woman was about twenty-three years 
 old, and beneath her fevered skin one could trace 
 lines and features of more delicate shape than is 
 usual in the Navajo face. Her hair was long, lying 
 loosely over her shoulders and partly covering her 
 
NiZENNI 
 
 forehead ; one shapely hand rested on the red blanket 
 with fingers tapering from the small palm that 
 joined a slight wrist. Her form, extended on the 
 couch, seemed to be tall and slender, unlike the 
 Navajo women. Her lips were parted in her sleep 
 and her mind was wandering. 
 
 "Father," she said in clear English, "send me the 
 friend I loved so well at the school. She can help 
 me. Quick, father! I am sinking in this sand and 
 the water is coming over me." Then in her delirium 
 she said other words in Navajo. 
 
 Chay-way was the daughter of an officer of the 
 army who had left her with the Navajo mother 
 until she was old enough to be taken away to 
 school. When she returned to the reservation from 
 the distant school at San Gabriel her mother was 
 dead and her father was far away, stationed at a 
 post in southern Arizona, and yet his care over 
 Chay-way continued still, for he had been strangely 
 fond of his child. Through the agent of the Navajos 
 he had secured a kind companion and protector for 
 her in a Navajo woman whose husband had assisted 
 the post trader at Ganado Mucho ranch till he was 
 shot in an Indian brawl. 
 
 Wi-jee and Chay-way wrought at weaving blank- 
 ets for their support, and their many fanciful pat- 
 terns made their work always salable and the ad- 
 miration of the Navajos. Their cabin was built 
 of pine slabs with bark undisturbed, obtained at a 
 distant steam sawmill erected in the center of a 
 mesa thickly grown with pines from forty to sixty 
 
 199 
 
Chunda 
 
 feet high, where himber had been sawed for the 
 needs of a railroad that had been recently con- 
 strncted through that part of Arizona. 
 
 The house had been designed by Chay-way's 
 father, and built by his orders under the direction 
 of the agent at Fort Defiance. It was of simple but 
 tasteful shape, and framed with timber in a sub- 
 stantial way by an American carpenter. It had 
 four rooms, in three of which were large fireplaces. 
 The other room was the kitchen, where also their 
 table was spread, and was furnished with a small 
 stove and a few utensils for cooking. A workroom 
 adjoined this where were two rude looms and some 
 other implements of their craft. In the two rooms 
 on the other side of the house were two small beds 
 and a couch now occupied by the sick girl, who was 
 protected from the cold by the ample fire on the 
 hearth. Their front room was not commonly used, 
 but its floors were spread with rugs, and finer 
 blankets of choice weaving and design hung upon 
 the walls, lighting and enriching them with their 
 colors, in the midst of which were two or three 
 spirited engravings. A table and a few chairs were 
 its only furniture, but on the mantel were some fine 
 pieces of Moqui ware and two china vases and 
 candlesticks of brass which were the daughter's 
 most prized mementos of her parents and had be- 
 longed to her mother. In all the rooms the rafters 
 were visible above, but the roof was specially dis- 
 tinguished from all the other cabins on the reserva- 
 tion by being covered with shingles. 
 
 200 
 
NiZENNI 
 
 It was a humble home, but one where two simple- 
 hearted women toiled and lived in remembrance of 
 lessons learned in youth among white people. 
 Chay-way had not forgotten how to read the small 
 books which she had brought from San Gabriel, 
 but she had evidently cherished more than all others 
 a prayer book that lay upon the little stand by her 
 bed with her father's name written in it. 
 
 The cabin was built near the edge of the mesa, 
 and commanded a wide view of a neighboring canon 
 and plain below it. Two or three hogans and a 
 smaller cabin were not more than a hundred rods 
 from it, occupied by other Navajo families. In a 
 ravine between them was a small stream that was 
 fed by a spring at the foot of a rocky bluff above the 
 hogans. This water, a rare occurrence on these 
 mesas, had determined the site of Chay-way's cabin 
 and the huts not yet transformed into modern 
 dwellings. 
 
 Half an hour had passed since the pihon flame 
 had shed its gleams down the rocky sides of the 
 mesa. The older occupant of the cabin was restless 
 and anxious. She went out again in the darkness 
 and listened. The sound of horses' hoofs were now 
 distinct, and as Wi-jee waited they galloped up to 
 the door of the cabin and stopped. 
 
 A woman quickly dismounted, and her two 
 guards led her horse away to the ravine. 
 
 Nizenni entered the front room, led by Wi-jee, 
 who held her hand in mute thankfulness that she 
 had come at her urgent call these weary miles. As 
 
 201 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 she came into the light of the fire she turned and 
 looked admiringly into the face of the young doctor, 
 and fervently repeated the endearing term with 
 which Chay-way had been addressing her ere she 
 sunk into her stupor. 
 
 "See-sla, my sister, you are very beautiful, you 
 are very good. Everyone has said this, but now I 
 know it." 
 
 Nizenni threw ofif her waterproof and stood be- 
 fore the fire for a few moments with her medicine 
 case in her hand. A face expressive of kindly spirit 
 was revealed by the soft white light of the pinon 
 wood. Her dark eye gleamed with love and intelli- 
 gence. There was dignity in the brow and strength 
 in the firm chin and thin lips; grace in the round 
 cheeks ; authority and strong purpose in the pose 
 of the head and the attitude of that form. She was 
 clothed in a dark gray-checked dress and a black 
 sacque which fitted closely to her shoulders. The 
 skirt of her dress reached to her ankles, which, with 
 her small feet, were encased in brown leggins and 
 shoes. 
 
 Putting her medicine case on the table, Nizenni 
 turned to the Navajo woman and asked, speaking 
 in Navajo: 
 
 "How is Chay-way?" 
 
 "She is full of fever." 
 
 "When was she taken sick?" 
 
 "Ten days ago, Nizenni, and she has been grow- 
 ing worse each day." 
 
 "Does she take food ?" 
 
NiZENNI 
 
 "No, only water, and a little wet ground maize. 
 She is in great pain and very weak." 
 
 "Take me to her," and Nizenni followed the 
 woman to the couch of the patient in the next 
 room. 
 
 With practiced eye and hand she examined the 
 sufferer before she was fully awake. 
 
 As she took her hand to draw her face more fully 
 into the light Nizenni started. 
 
 "Alas!" she said softly, "this is my little friend 
 Maggie. We must make you well quickly," she 
 said, bending over her and stroking the hot brow 
 with a gentle hand. "Maggie, don't you know 
 me?" 
 
 There was half a smile on the sick girl's lips. 
 Then she closed her eyes and wandered in her 
 speech, which was Navajo, with now and then an 
 English phrase. 
 
 The doctor prepared some remedies, and with the 
 aid of the Navajo woman put Chay-way into bed. 
 Then she sat down to the table, spread with a white 
 cloth and a few plain dishes, and partook of the 
 simple fare that had been neatly set before her. It 
 was late in the night, and the doctor turned to 
 Wi-jee as she rose from the table. 
 
 "You have watched long and faithfully," she 
 said. "Your eyes are very heavy, and you must 
 have strength for the days that still must bring 
 you greater care. Go and sleep the rest of this 
 night undisturbed, and leave Chay-way with me. 
 She has the mountain fever, and it soon will turn, to 
 
 203 
 
Chunda 
 
 be relieved or much worse. I will do all that is 
 possible for her. Trust her to me, Wi-jee." 
 
 The woman looked gratefully into the face of the 
 doctor and embraced her. Then she turned away 
 and sank upon the bed, falling into a deep slumber 
 from which she did not wake till the next after- 
 noon. 
 
 The youthful vigor of the agency physician had 
 been aroused rather than exhausted by the exhil- 
 arating ride over the mountain plateau and through 
 the Caiion de Chelly. She was again in her native 
 air, and among scenes which were the more exciting 
 for her long absence at the schools on the Atlantic 
 shores. 
 
 She had been received with wonder and with en- 
 thusiasm by the progressive party among the Nava- 
 jos, and with ominous chagrin and resentment from 
 those who resisted the tendencies toward civilization 
 in the tribe. Among these were specially noticeable 
 the Shamans, who shrewdly perceived that this 
 return of an educated Navajo physician, a woman 
 of remarkable presence and strength of character, 
 was the beginning of the end of their already wan- 
 ing influence over their superstitious people. 
 
 With ardor and hope, and with a wonderful tact 
 
 which was aided by her winning beauty of face, 
 
 quick judgment, and agile movements, she had 
 
 begun her practice, with the authority of her office 
 
 easily assumed by her and unquestioned by her 
 
 people. 
 
 From hogan to hogan in that immense reserva- 
 204 
 
NiZENNI 
 
 tion went the news of her arrival, and many a 
 squaw's eye kindled with hope and pride at the some- 
 times detracting reports of the men who brought the 
 information, which usually was given with hearty 
 praise when carried by women. 
 
 One after another the Navajo women found a 
 ready errand to Fort Defiance agency, riding often 
 fifty or a hundred miles to bring their own ailments 
 and the sufferings of their children to the kindly 
 notice of "Nizenni," as Dr. Lawton had been char- 
 acteristically named from her handsome face and 
 figure. The child name, "Chunda," was forgotten 
 or outgrown. Hedipa's daughter was known to her 
 people by one more expressive title in many a tale 
 of her afterward, when they told, in hogan and 
 cabin and by camp fires in mesa parks or canons, 
 how Nizenni wrought her wonderful work for her 
 people and suffered for it in her beautiful life. Her 
 name was then spoken with reverence, love and 
 tears, as was that patron saint Eulalia by the peo- 
 ple of Spain, whose name she had borne in her later 
 school life and at her Christian baptism. 
 
 Nizenni had been unremitting, during the winter 
 months after she came to assume her duties, in her 
 efforts to bind to herself in personal devotion the 
 women of her tribe. Through these she held the 
 favor of many a husband who saw the less serious 
 diseases of his wife or children quickly dispelled, 
 and confidence returning to those who had despaired 
 of restoration and of life itself. Her male assistant, 
 Rodney Winston, was a judicious appointment by 
 
 205 
 
Chunda 
 
 the government. A recent graduate from the Medi- 
 cal School at Harvard University, he was in true 
 sympathy with her plans, admired her energy and 
 skill, and was profoundly impressed w^th her in- 
 genuous and straightforward character. Assured 
 that, if he wished, he should be her successor in the 
 post of agency physician when Nizenni's main pur- 
 pose was accomplished, self-interest as well as the 
 strict commands from Washington secured his 
 active and sincere support as a trusty coworker at 
 Fort Defiance when Nizenni made her distant pro- 
 tracted visits over the reservation. These rides were 
 helpful as well as necessary to her influence, for the 
 prevailing fever of these high altitudes was, for 
 some unknown cause, of late years increasingly fatal. 
 The Shamans' magic had been powerless to check 
 it, and the ravages of the disease were alarming and 
 discouraging to the tribe. They believed that only 
 some special deliverance from higher powers could 
 save them, and they moved from plains to the 
 wooded plateaus and from mesas to the canons in a 
 vain effort to find favor from the spirits of the air 
 and to escape the disease. The human heart, 
 whether in savage or in enlightened conditions, 
 humbled by such afflictions, looks to the supernatural 
 for aid. It often transfigures what is unusual into 
 a weird or divine shape, and surrenders to it pride 
 and the opposition of custom and prejudice. 
 
 So the strange history of Nizenni seemed, to 
 many who knew a part of it, a revelation of some 
 divine favor and scheme for their betterment. Her 
 
 206 
 
NiZENNI 
 
 career and the appointment by the Great Father 
 seemed to have been a thought of the Navajo god- 
 dess who especially championed the cause of women 
 of their tribe. "Why should she not have been thus 
 kind to them?" they said. "The selfishness of the 
 Shamans, their brutality and cruelty and their sham- 
 ming of power over disease, we have long des- 
 pised" ; and they secretly rejoiced now at this their 
 rival's skill and power over the tribe. 
 
 The "House of Comfort" that Nizenni in these 
 visits did not fail to describe, and promised should 
 be built for them, was a new sign of the favor of 
 their goddess. It would be a refuge and a resting 
 place for their enfeebled bodies ; it would give them 
 an insight into that higher, better living of white 
 people of which now and then they had heard tales 
 or caught glimpses on long rides to the frontier 
 towns. 
 
 Nizenni was fast making her way among her peo- 
 ple when the shadows of the jealous Shamans and 
 their followers began to flit about her paths. She 
 knew their craft and their power, but she believed 
 also that they would hardly resort to violence when 
 the power of the Great Father at Washington was 
 manifestly sustaining her. The numbers of the 
 Indian police had been increased at the agency. The 
 frequent presence of mounted soldiers from Fort 
 Wingate, in detachments of two or three or even 
 single riders passing in widely separated places 
 through the reservation on some service of engineer- 
 ing or scouting, indicated to the wary hostiles a 
 
 207 
 
Chunda 
 
 watchful regard for the touches of civilization which 
 were extending- through their country, in the build- 
 ing of cabins, the cultivation of fields, the hewing 
 of timbers and the sawing of lumber by the steam 
 mills in different localities. So the conservatives 
 and the hostiles cowered in their hogans or flitted 
 at night from place to place where they might con- 
 sult with one another. There were as yet no start- 
 ling signs of hostility. 
 
 Nizenni was fearless, and often by her exposures 
 of herself in solitary rides to hidden perils won re- 
 spect. Her trust in higher powers of protection was 
 a sign to the savage of their favor. By a few 
 words to the sick, or a kindly act of healing when 
 no Shaman or spy was near to observe its effect, she 
 bound many a heart to her cause. 
 
 So we find her tonight, in the midst of a little 
 cluster of hogans and cabins, watching on this mesa 
 with a friend of her childhood. Tomorrow Nizenni 
 will find other patients to whom in this little com- 
 munity her services will be invaluable. 
 
 The thoughts of her distant friends in the far 
 East came to her as she looked on the live embers 
 on the hearth. The faithful and loving remem- 
 brance of one dearer now than all the rest, from 
 whom she had received that morning an exultant 
 letter upon the auspicious action of Congress in his 
 own enterprises for the redemption of the Navajos, 
 filled her heart with gratitude. This was no hard 
 service, no hardship to her eager spirit. Its powers 
 were in full exercise, its aims reaching toward an 
 
 208 
 
NiZENNI 
 
 object that had filled her waking and sleeping hours 
 for many months and years. The cheerful glow 
 of the piiion coals was reflected in her animated face, 
 and her eyes, glistening in the reddish glare of the 
 fire, were brilliant with an inner light. She thought 
 of the grave in the lonely cafion which she had 
 passed that day, where there seemed to have met 
 her the loved spirit of her mother. She was taking 
 up the work she remembered Hedipa so often did as 
 she nursed the sick, but how greatly changed were 
 her surroundings! How differently she herself, 
 with enlightened mind and ready skill, put forth the 
 hand to heal and uttered words to soothe the weary ! 
 Ah ! but the humbler ministering was yet as tender 
 as hers could ever be. She thanked God for such a 
 heritage, for a treasured memory, for a long-sought 
 opportunity. 
 
 209 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF HEDIPA 
 
 The sick girl was sleeping quietly under the influ- 
 ence of the doctor's powders, and did not need close 
 attendance. Nizenni, therefore, drew from the 
 pouch of her saddle, which had been brought into 
 the cabin, a roll of paper. Unfolding it upon the 
 little stand, she lighted a candle and studied the 
 plans and specifications of the hospital, which she 
 had received the day before from the architect, and 
 the contract for its erection, which was signed by a 
 responsible builder in Saint Louis. A letter within 
 this contract conveyed the information that an out- 
 fit of mechanics, teams, derricks and other tools, 
 with tents and provisions, would start for the reser- 
 vation the next week to quarry and dress the sand- 
 stone of which the hospital was to be built. The 
 heavier lumber would be cut at the steam mill on 
 the reservation ; and the rest, ready fitted and fin- 
 ished at Saint Louis, would be forwarded by rail- 
 road, with workmen to complete the building when 
 they should be needed. 
 
 Nizenni thoughtfully scanned the plans, and 
 from time to time read a page or two in the specifi- 
 cations. Her eyes grew brighter as the hours of the 
 night thus quickly passed on. Her imagination was 
 filled with the scenes which rose before her. The 
 
 210 
 
The Daughter of Hedipa 
 
 enthusiasm of her nature was aroused, and her 
 fancy drew pictures of sufferers in the wards, of 
 convalescents on the portals, of patient Navajo chil- 
 dren looking wistfully to her for relief from their 
 pains, as she saw herself passing through the chil- 
 dren's ward and the workroom where girls and 
 women would be taught how to provide for the 
 helpless, and in the kitchen where they would learn 
 how to prepare proper nourishment for the different 
 stages of sickness or recovery of invalids. 
 
 Nizenni tired at last of thinking, and with the 
 collect upon her lips, "Direct us, O Lord, in all our 
 doings, with thy most gracious favor, and further 
 us with thy continual help," she rested her head 
 upon the little table and slept. But her repose was 
 short, for startled by a knock on the cabin door she 
 rose and looked out of the window nearest to her. 
 The gray twilight of an April morning made the 
 unfamiliar objects appear more strange and filled 
 her with a momentary dread. Then she went softly 
 to the door and listened. There was someone out- 
 side walking up and down the short path which led 
 to the cabin. Nizenni opened the door and recog- 
 nized one of the police guard, who beckoned to her 
 to come outside and then told her that in the ravine 
 nearby were two very sick children whose mothers 
 implored her to come and save them from the dread- 
 ful fever which had seized them two days before. 
 
 Turning back to her patient, Nizenni saw her still 
 sleeping heavily, and putting on a wrap she picked 
 up her medicine case and softly leaving the house 
 
Chunda 
 
 walked up the ravine. Two women, watching: for 
 her approach, came forward joyfully, and taking 
 her by the hand led her quickly to the nearest of the 
 two hogans. 
 
 How different the surroundings of these poor 
 children were from those of the cabin! The chill 
 of the morning pervaded the rude structure of mud 
 and saplings slanting together at the top. A fire 
 was burning near the center, and its smoke dimmed 
 the fitful light of the brands. On a pile of piiion 
 twigs, resting on coarser branches beneath and cov- 
 ered with blankets, was a girl of eleven or twelve 
 years, her cheeks flushed and her head tossing from 
 one side to the other on a roll of softer blankets as 
 she moaned with pain. 
 
 Nizenni knelt down and listened to her breathing. 
 It betrayed no sign of danger in the lungs, and 
 slightly touching the patient's wrist she stroked the 
 hot brow with her left hand. Then she looked in- 
 tently for a few moments on the round face of the 
 child and turned with a bright smile to the mother, 
 who stood anxiously watching her countenance. 
 Motioning for her case, she took from it a few tab- 
 lets, and giving one to the child handed ten or 
 twelve more to the mother, with clearly spoken 
 directions in the Navajo tongue as to their use. 
 
 Then the other squaw led her hastily to her own 
 hogan. On a similar rude couch was lying a boy 
 of fourteen. His eyes w^re no longer bright, and 
 his cheeks were sunken with a pale and yellowish 
 cast, but he looked with w^onder at the face bending 
 
 212 
 
The Daughter of Hedipa 
 
 over him, while Nizenni asked more questions and 
 prescribed for him. But when she brought hght 
 and hope into the mother's eyes by her soothing 
 words the squaw gratefully put her arm on the doc- 
 tor's shoulder, who looked sadly up to the rude sticks 
 meeting above the little sufferer's head, and shivered 
 as she turned away toward Maggie's cabin. 
 
 There she soon entered and, with the aid of a 
 young girl who had followed, made herself a cup 
 of coffee and arranged a breakfast from the contents 
 of the saddlebag which contained her provisions. 
 
 Maggie awoke meanwhile with the same high 
 fever and wandering speech as the night before, but 
 she was quieted again after taking a slight nourish- 
 ment prepared now by Nizenni herself. Then, tell- 
 ing the Indian girl to watch by her, keep the fire 
 burning, and send a boy to call her if she was 
 needed, Nizenni walked far down the ravine, finding 
 two or three more suffering from malarial fevers 
 and one hopeless patient in the last stage of con- 
 sumption. 
 
 213 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 SHADOWS IN A CLEAR SKY 
 
 The sun of a May morning was shining from the 
 cloudless strip of sky that stretched like a broad 
 blue ribbon over the deep cleft of the Cafion de 
 Chelly, revealing a score of masons and hodmen 
 who were completing the jfirm stone walls of the 
 "House of Comfort," while the carpenters were pre- 
 paring to erect the roof rafters and covering the 
 floor beams with planks. The red and yellow sand- 
 stone blocks, with lines of black marble along the 
 window copings, gave a variety of color attractive 
 to the eye of the uncultured Navajo, which is con- 
 tented only with the strongest hues in nature repro- 
 duced in his dress, utensils, arms and ornaments. 
 These stone blocks had been quarried in a neighbor- 
 ing rincon, whence, having been already hammered 
 and shaped for their places, they had been dragged 
 to the site of the hospital by Navajo horses which 
 had thus taken their first training in drawing the 
 burdens which civilization lays upon man and beast. 
 
 The work thus far had been watched from the 
 crevices and brink of the cafion by groups of Navajo 
 women drawn by curiosity or sympathy, and by not 
 a few men who, having refused to put their hands 
 to the work, had surveyed the progress of the build- 
 ing sitting on their horses day after day and riding 
 
 214 
 
Shadows in a Clear Sky 
 
 back to their hogans at night to discuss the strange 
 devices and mechanical appHances of modern build- 
 ing. 
 
 The manufactured lumber in piles of doors, win- 
 dow blinds, moldings, boxes of hardware and of 
 hospital furniture and appointments, and other 
 material for the furnishing of this building and its 
 preparation for immediate use, were to be seen near 
 the walls, protected only by large canvas covers 
 which were sufficient for the dry season of this 
 country. 
 
 As the builders rapidly advanced the framework 
 of the roof, and made fast the flooring and erected 
 the partitions, the masons withdrew to work upon 
 the foundations already laid of a new structure at 
 the entrance of the cafion of much greater extent 
 and plainer design and material. Here the govern- 
 ment employees had collected larger supplies of 
 hewn stone, a gray silicious sandstone which had 
 been quarried from cliffs composed of a different 
 formation about two miles distant on the trail to 
 Ganado Mucho ranch as it descends from the mesa 
 to the lower level of the Chelly valley. 
 
 The force of mechanics and laborers, now in- 
 creased to nearly fifty, made speedy work in the 
 erection of the Chin-a-li Industrial School for Boys, 
 A score of stalwart Navajos were employed in the 
 rough work of loading and hauling stone and mix- 
 ing and carrying mortar. 
 
 In three months the walls were ready for the plain 
 work in lumber and in finishing the buildings. 
 
 215 
 
Chunda 
 
 These consisted of the main structure, two and a 
 half stories high, projecting in front and rear be- 
 yond the two wings of less height, of which the 
 lower floors were arranged for the various occu- 
 pations to be taught and the upper rooms appro- 
 priated to sleeping rooms. The main building was 
 ordered for the offices and dining rooms, with cook- 
 ing arrangements in an extension conveniently con- 
 nected with the refectories. 
 
 The building operations were an exciting object 
 lesson to the wondering Navajos, arousing in many 
 of them hope of a new and strange future for their 
 children ; but there were dark, repelling faces ming- 
 ling with the spectators, watching with evil eyes 
 every sign of civilized life thus multiplying before 
 them. 
 
 Dr. Lawton became a frequent visitor at the 
 hospital when its design began to unfold rapidly 
 under the labors of the carpenters putting together 
 the prepared materials. Her furniture and hospital 
 appointments and stores were now waiting for the 
 contractor to leave the building in her hands for 
 occupancy, which he was ready to do at the time 
 specified in his contract. 
 
 On an afternoon in June, Eulalia arrived at Chin- 
 a-li in response to the notice for which she had 
 been patiently waiting. The covered mountain 
 wagon in which she rode was followed by five large 
 freight wagons loaded with the stores and equip- 
 ment of the Hedipa Hospital. As she drove by the 
 trading post store a group of women hailed her 
 
 216 
 
Shadows in a Clear Sky 
 
 with admiring smiles, calling her by the names in 
 which she had become endeared to them. A few 
 voices of the older ones addressed her by the child 
 name, which they still cherished, "Chunda!" 
 "Chiinda!" but there was a name now dearer to 
 them, which expressed both their pride and affec- 
 tion. "Nizenni !" "Nizenni !" was often upon their 
 lips as she passed them, her strong but beautiful 
 face lighted up with the consciousness of a purpose 
 well-nigh attained and an earnest expectation of 
 accomplishing for her people a merciful relief from 
 their worst sufferings. 
 
 But there was mingled with that look of triumph 
 irradiating her countenance a womanly pride and 
 tenderness, for at her side was Captain Nelson, who, 
 in the midst of her arrangements for departure to 
 the Canon de Chelly, had arrived at Fort Defiance 
 holding a commission from the Interior Department 
 at Washington which gave him ample power as 
 superintendent of construction and Principal of the 
 Chin-a-li Industrial School. 
 
 The cooperation of their individual enterprises 
 seemed to be assured and their devotion rewarded 
 in the approaching culmination of their tenderest 
 hope. In that long drive of one hundred and twenty 
 miles from the agency they had given expression 
 to unnumbered wishes and plans which had been 
 waiting for these hours of loving counsel and trust 
 in each other. 
 
 As Captain Nelson had looked through his field 
 glass from the bluffs two miles away which skirted 
 
 217 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 the plain of Chin-a-li, and had descried the walls 
 of the Industrial School covered with busy work- 
 men, he had uttered the long-restrained joy of his 
 soul. 
 
 "Eulalia, yonder are my castle walls!" he cried. 
 "The dream of these long years comes true. There 
 my vision takes definite shape and my thoughts will 
 yet be fulfilled when this plain shall be green with 
 fields of maize and dotted with farmhouses and 
 villages. Chin-a-li yonder shall be the center of 
 workshops and mills, where my people shall make 
 whatever they shall need for bright and happy 
 homes clustering around them." 
 
 "Your prophecy shall be fulfilled, Edward," said 
 the happy girl at his side. "It is your mission to 
 save. It is mine to comfort and heal. When you 
 have surveyed your rising walls, come up this canon 
 a little farther and see mine completed." 
 
 "Do not think, Eulalia, that I must wait to in- 
 spect my castle. It is substantial enough already to 
 bide my greater joy of sharing your delight in 
 entering your own. We will go on together and 
 arrange Hedipa Hospital for its patients before I 
 put a foot upon my own domain." 
 
 So they drove swiftly by the school and entered 
 the canon. 
 
 The direct rays of the sun quickly leave the canon, 
 but its reflected light from the eastern wall, where 
 they now lingered gave a purpling glimmer to the 
 red-tiled roof of the Hedipa Hospital, which rose in 
 strong outline from its plateau in the midst of the 
 
 218 
 
Shadows in a Clear Sky 
 
 widened gorge before the eyes of the eager travelers 
 as they turned a point from which the bayou of the 
 canon could be seen. The doors and windows were 
 open to dry the last finish on the walls and the oiled 
 woodwork. Half a dozen Navajo women were 
 standing on the front steps and looking eagerly 
 down the valley, for they had been joyfully listen- 
 ing to the rattling echoes of the wheels as the lum- 
 bering freight wagons approached over the stony 
 trails. As they came into sight the women jumped 
 upon their ponies and trotted forward to greet with 
 grateful and reverent glances Nizenni, and as they 
 scanned the features of her companion their eyes 
 glistened with admiration. 
 
 The contractor came forward as the party dis- 
 mounted, and courteously presented to Eulalia the 
 keys of the hospital. They entered the office, while 
 Nelson remained behind to survey the exterior of 
 the building. The formalities w-ere soon finished, 
 and Eulalia promptly called to her aid the willing 
 hands of men and women to unpack the boxes and 
 furniture already removed from the wagons; and 
 before the twilight had settled upon the scene rooms 
 were provided for herself and the two nurses who 
 had accompanied her in the freight wagon. The 
 office was assigned to Captain Nelson, and the rest 
 of the company camped upon the sandy plateau. 
 
 The week that followed brought intense satisfac- 
 tion to Eulalia, though it tested her singularly 
 strong physical and nervous energies. Nelson aided 
 her for a couple of days, and then returned to 
 
 219 
 
Chunda 
 
 Chin-a-li, taking up quarters at the trading post. 
 With woman's tact and skilled hand, assisted by her 
 two trained nurses, Eulalia completed the arrange- 
 ments of the wards and offices, the surgical and 
 dietary departments. When Nelson returned he 
 inspected with lavish sympathy and praise the fore- 
 thought and skill manifest in the equipments and 
 arrangements of the wards. 
 
 "Eulalia, dear," he said, as they turned to the 
 office and sat down, "this hour crowns your noble 
 purpose with a glory that makes me revere you. My 
 pride in possessing your love is obliterated by the 
 thought of my unworthiness, while I rejoice inex- 
 pressibly in the favor you so tenderly bestowed." 
 
 "Edward," she replied, "there has hardly been 
 a thought wdiich I have put into this building that 
 has not been associated with your own larger work 
 that soon wall stand as complete as this. We can 
 never forget the sympathy in which we have 
 wrought together, and should the life of either of 
 us be the sacrifice needed to consecrate these efforts 
 for the redemption of our people, let us cherish the 
 undertaking of the other as our own." 
 
 "Yes, Eulalia, that will be the consolation of 
 which either of us cannot be deprived, but rather 
 I believe there are years before us in which we may 
 together perfect them." 
 
 "I hope so, dearest ; yet there seems to hover over 
 me the suggestion of some disaster as the flight of 
 that eagle's shadow darkens these sands as he soars 
 above this cafion." 
 
 220 
 
Shadows in a Clear Sky 
 
 Nelson looked up with a sudden pang to the sky, 
 and saw the bird floating proudly not far above the 
 brink of the gorge, but in the light of the oblique 
 rays of the sun his shadow was now moving over 
 the hospital roof. 
 
 He shook off the superstitious dread which for 
 the moment had chilled his heart, and looking down 
 into Eulalia's face he said with intense emphasis : 
 
 *'It is your greater soul that anticipates such a 
 possible test of your devotion, my precious Eulalia. 
 Cheer your heart rather with a brighter destiny and 
 the assurance of rewards of present happiness for 
 such unselfishness as yours." 
 
 Then, leaning over her, he kissed her radiant 
 cheeks, and mounting his horse he rode down the 
 canon, waving again and again his hand toward his 
 beloved as she stood on the steps of her beautiful 
 "House of Comfort" and threw with both hands out- 
 stretched a kiss toward him when he turned the 
 bend of the projecting cliff and cast a last look back 
 on her whom he should so soon call his bride. 
 
 221 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE CAPTURE 
 
 It was an eventful summer on the Navajo reser- 
 vation when the Hedipa Hospital was opened. The 
 sick and suffering of this great tribe had never a 
 thought before of what ordinary comforts and 
 skilled nursing could bring to their diseased bodies 
 and despondent minds. The fame of the hospital 
 went over the mountains and mesas and entered 
 miserable hogans on the farthest borders of their 
 land. Many sufferers were too far removed to grasp 
 at the new hope of life which it held out to others. 
 Mothers brought their sick children by slow jour- 
 neys on the backs of ponies to its open doors. IMany 
 isolated invalids were urged by friendly messengers 
 to attempt to reach the care and skill that were 
 waiting them in the Chelly Canon. So each ward of 
 the hospital was occupied by five or six patients in 
 the first three months, and the peach-gathering time 
 brought as many more to apply for aid and shelter 
 for their sick, while the fruit was being gathered 
 and dried upon the shelving sides of the canon. 
 
 A few weeks under the care of Eulalia and her 
 assistants wrought strange cures, and a new spirit 
 lighted up sad faces. The squaws especially re- 
 turned to their hogans exulting in the restoration 
 
 222 
 
Tpie Capture 
 
 to health of their children or kinswomen by a 
 woman's hand and skill. 
 
 Nizenni was revered as the representative of the 
 goddess in whom they specially trusted. 
 
 The effect of the Industrial School building now 
 approaching completion was not less remarkable 
 and widespread. More than a hundred young men 
 and boys of suitable age were waiting in the vicinity 
 of the canon to begin an education that would give 
 their hands the skill which they had seen displayed 
 in so many ways by the workmen. Captain Nel- 
 son's history had been told as widely as Eulalia's, 
 and the military and police stationed on the slopes 
 of the Carizo Mountains and around the canon ef- 
 fectually repressed the open expressions of hostility 
 of the conservatives, which were expected to reach 
 some violent form as the time approached to open 
 the school. 
 
 This was fixed for the middle of October. An- 
 other event of still deeper interest to Captain Nelson 
 and Eulalia was arranged to precede the opening 
 of the school. They were to be married at the 
 agency on the first of that month. Eulalia, having 
 resigned her position as agency physician, was then 
 to take one already assigned to her by the authorities 
 at Washington as assistant to Captain Nelson. The 
 superintendence of the Hedipa Hospital was still to 
 be retained by her and its details given to the head 
 nurse, while she should daily visit and prescribe for 
 the patients and control its management. 
 
 Redford and his daughter, Margaret, had arrived 
 223 
 
Chunda 
 
 at the hospital from Washington in order to witness 
 the opening of the school, the success of the hospital, 
 and especially to attend Eulalia's marriage cere- 
 mony, which was to be performed by their long- 
 tried friend. 
 
 It was the middle of September, and again the 
 time of harvest or maize dance, which, by traditions 
 of the tribe, generally occurred in the Chelly Canon. 
 This dance had been with jealous care arranged by 
 the Shamans and appointed to be held at the upper 
 end of the canon in the great bayou, where Hedipa 
 and her companions many years before had taken 
 refuge in a cavern from their fancied pursuers, 
 and where the effects of the wonderful carving of 
 the cliffs by ancient waters had aroused their super- 
 stitious fears for the fate of their daughters. 
 
 The conservative Navajos, in sympathy with the 
 Shamans, had held a number of secret councils in 
 which they had determined to make desperate effort 
 to maintain their customs and religion against the 
 aggressions of civilization. The disposition of the 
 young men to make trial of the Chin-a-li school and 
 the success of the hospital treatment and care filled 
 the hearts of the Shamans with chagrin, and, as 
 the respect for their own skill at healing and author- 
 ity was daily lessened, their enmity increased against 
 the two leaders of reform now so prominently before 
 their people. 
 
 The Shamans had put on a bolder face to their 
 followers in the secret meetings as the time of the 
 maize dance approached, and at last demanded the 
 
 224 
 
The Capture 
 
 violent seizure of those who were making the tribe 
 recreant to their traditions and faithless to the Na- 
 vajo god. They had summoned all who would be 
 faithful to them to attend the dance. From clan to 
 clan their most eloquent and bitter emissaries had 
 gone, visiting every part of the reservation and 
 preparing them for the scene which would follow 
 the festival. 
 
 They were instructed to come to the dance with 
 their ordinary arms and paint, but to hide their 
 ammunition and heavier guns in certain caves in a 
 neighboring rincon which had a secret passage to 
 the mesa above it. They would be supplied with 
 weapons and cartridges from the secret arsenal in 
 the mountains, which was the council place of the 
 Shamans and of their most trusty warriors. 
 
 These preparations had been successfully con- 
 cealed from the authorities at the agency, but Major 
 Culvert had taken special precautions for the open- 
 ing of the school and this annual assemblage of the 
 Navajos. He had even requested an additional 
 force of cavalry and four mountain howitzers to 
 be sent from Fort Wingate to camp, five miles 
 from the Canon de Chelly, on a spur of the Carizo 
 Mountains. 
 
 The night before the maize dance the last council 
 of the Shamans was held in their secret fortress. 
 They had been preparing for this culmination of 
 their plot by a week of fasting and incantations to 
 the spirits of their ancestors. A hundred and twenty 
 selected warriors were to be concealed in a dense 
 
 225 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 wood beyond the canon during the festival, and 
 afterward protect and aid the Shamans in their con- 
 templated violence. These warriors were admitted 
 under the strictest oaths of secrecy to the fortress 
 in which this council was held. 
 
 The unwonted number of followers present in- 
 creased the excitement of the Shamans, and their 
 incantations and dances soon reached a pitch of un- 
 controllable fury. The scene was such as comported 
 with the strange objects that rose out of the dark- 
 ness, appearing, by the lurid light of the pifion fires, 
 like giant gods and demons stalking out of pas- 
 sages worn through the cliffs that surrounded a 
 gorge hollowed by torrents which once rushed 
 through the chasm or dashed against its sides and 
 crumbled away their softer strata. 
 
 Now the whoops and shrieks of the dance filled 
 these recesses with prayers worthy to be addressed 
 to such demonlike forms. The warriors, huddled 
 at first in amazed and terrified postures at the 
 mouths of black caverns behind them, soon caught 
 the fury of the dancers and dashed by twos and 
 threes into their circles, imitating them in their ges- 
 tures and motions and joining in their piercing 
 cries. The assembly became at last a mass of in- 
 furiated beings in motion, winding in and out of the 
 rocky passages and throwing up their arms to the 
 spectral images that seemed to tower into the sky 
 or bend favorably to their supplications in the in- 
 creasing shadows. 
 
 For two or three hours this scene of demoniac 
 226 
 
The Capture 
 
 fury and shoutings was maintained, until the actors 
 sank exhausted on the ground and still remained in 
 stupor when daylight broke. But a few shook off 
 the spell and prepared a feast over the renewed fires. 
 About noon, having listened to the harangues of the 
 Shamans, in which they revealed as much as was 
 prudent of their plans, the warriors followed their 
 leaders one by one out of the gorge. Before sun- 
 down they had reached their place of concealment 
 near the caiion unperceived by the group of Navajos 
 who were passing up the canon to the place of the 
 corn dance. 
 
 The people were gathering in unusual numbers 
 from all directions, and as they went by the build- 
 ings at Chin-a-li and the Hedipa Hospital quite dif- 
 ferently viewed them with admiration or with 
 jealousy and hatred. Most of the women uttered 
 words of praise for "Nizenni," as they fondly called 
 Eujalia ; some stopped at the gateway of the hospital 
 and received her kindly greetings; a few sought to 
 embrace her in gratitude for the recovery of their 
 kinsfolk or her successful treatment of their own 
 ailments. 
 
 Redford and Margaret had promised to accom- 
 pany Eulalia and Captain Nelson to the maize dance, 
 for the superintendent had chosen this opportunity 
 to make himself known to his old acquaintances 
 from all parts of the reservation and to win their 
 favor toward his undertaking. Eulalia, so soon to 
 enter upon the new relations of marriage, desired to 
 revive the scenes of that last dance at Chin-a-li 
 
 227 
 
CnUNDA 
 
 wlien, a young maiden, she gave assent to that part- 
 ing with her lover through which her hfe had been 
 so transformed and ennobled in its aims and powers. 
 
 As Captain Nelson was detained beyond the ap- 
 pointed hour of their departure from Hedipa Hos- 
 pital by the arrival of a government inspector at 
 Chin-a-Ii, he sent a messenger up the cahon to say 
 that he would meet them at the place of the dance, 
 if he could not overtake them on their way. 
 So Redford and Eulalia set out on their ponies, but 
 were obliged to leave Margaret, unwillingly detained 
 by the effects of her recent ride from Fort Defiance. 
 
 The evening was clear and the night air inspirit- 
 ing, but the shadows of the canon walls under which 
 they rode were all the deeper for the moonlight 
 which bathed the opposite sides of the cliffs. They 
 were led by two guides, one of whom was Nesito, 
 who had renewed his acquaintance with Eulalia, 
 and having grown to a stalwart Navajo had been 
 made a responsible employee of the hospital, serving 
 both as steward and interpreter. 
 
 Eulalia was riding in a happy mood, recounting 
 to Redford her experiences during the winter and 
 the perplexities she had met and solved in the fur- 
 therance of her hospital enterprise. Then she pic- 
 tured to him the content and happiness which she 
 expected in their new plans after her long-deferred 
 marriage, when they should begin together their 
 hazardous efforts to transform their tribe. 
 
 Redford listened with wonder to her lively recital 
 of what had been already done. As he heard her 
 
 228 
 
The Capture 
 
 often pathetic story he contrasted this scene with 
 another when Hot-si and Chtinda rode through a 
 wild night of storm out of the darkness of this canon 
 to reach those changes in conditions and characters 
 already accompHshed. 
 
 They were yet half a mile from the place of the 
 dance, and crossing the sandy bottom of a wide gulf 
 in the gorge. Suddenly, from the nearer and darker 
 side came the sound of horsemen dashing across the 
 sands. Nesito turned his horse quickly, and rode 
 back crying to Eulalia and her companion : 
 
 "Nizenni! Maestro! You are both in danger. 
 It is the Shamans' cry, and I hear their war whoop 
 echoed above the cliff. Ride fast toward the dance. 
 There are friends among the people who will protect 
 you. It is your only chance. You cannot turn, but 
 beware of the Shamans. They hate you, Nizenni !" 
 
 Eulalia did not hesitate; she trusted the fidelity 
 of Nesito, and urged her horse to the utmost speed. 
 Redford fell behind as the trail grew narrower, but 
 ere long they were both overtaken and their bridles 
 seized by the foremost riders, who without check- 
 ing their speed, turned the horses across the shallow 
 current of the Chelly River. It was useless to re- 
 monstrate. As they reached the other side half a 
 dozen warriors gathered around them and ordered 
 them to dismount. In vain Eulalia told them they 
 were making captive an officer of the government in 
 seizing her. Their hands were bound and mufflers 
 tightly drawn across their mouths, so that they 
 could not speak, nor hardly could they breathe. 
 
 229 
 
CnUNDA 
 
 They were at the opening of a ravine cleft in the 
 walls of the canon and leading up a sharp ascent to 
 the top. The Navajos quickly unloosened their 
 lariats of horsehair from their saddles and tied them 
 firmly around the waists of their captives. Then 
 four of them went forward and two behind as they 
 climbed up the rough ravine, dragging and pushing 
 their helpless prisoners up the dark passageway, 
 which grew wider toward the top. It had been made 
 by the summer torrents falling over the cliffs, but 
 from the bottom of the canon it was hardly notice- 
 able on account of its narrow opening and its wind- 
 ing through the harder sandstone below. 
 
 But this defile led to the hiding place of the 
 Navajo warriors, who were soon exulting over the 
 success of the adventure, which had been quickly 
 planned by the aid of spies near the hospital. These 
 had reported the departure of the company for the 
 dance to some of the Shamans, and one of their 
 hated opposers was already in their power. 
 
 230 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 IN THE HIDDEN STRONGHOLD 
 
 The Maize dance in the Chelly Canon was pro- 
 ceeding with unusual vigor under the direction of 
 two or three Shamans assigned to this part of the 
 plot for diverting the attention of the people who 
 were friendly to the school and hospital. There 
 was no interruption to the movements of the dance 
 on account of the information which had been se- 
 cretly given to the Shamans that those who were 
 lying in wait had captured Nizenni and the Maestro. 
 The superintendent had not yet been w^aylaid, and 
 it was needful that the great assembly should not be 
 disturbed by the knowledge of the outrage already 
 committed. It would soon enough cause a division 
 of the tribe after they had put away the leaders in 
 the movement for education and change of their 
 customs. 
 
 In an hour or two the Shamans managed to trans- 
 fer their costumes of headdress, feathers and paint 
 to younger men who were their adepts or learners. 
 The older men withdrew to set out for the council 
 house, and, their absence being noticed by some of 
 their supporters, they began to gather apart in 
 small groups, and after hurried consultations dis- 
 appeared in the darkness. 
 
 The Shamans had planned for the removal of 
 231 
 
Chunda 
 
 Nelson and Nizenni, whom they hoped to capture 
 together, to the council house and fortress in the 
 mountains. The principal men favoring the Sha- 
 mans were to follow, with the warriors, during the 
 night, and in their presence the Shamans were to 
 hold a trial of the captives, who were to be accused 
 of witchcraft and by cruel methods of exorcism 
 forced to renounce their Christian faith and their 
 efforts to change the tribe, or to suffer the death by 
 torture which they would justify by an ancient 
 tradition, but which, for many years, had not been 
 inflicted on any of their tribe. 
 
 That this plan might be executed quickly, and 
 before a rescue could be effected by the friends of 
 the captives, the warriors were instructed to remove 
 them at once to the mountain fortress. 
 
 Eulalia and Mr. Redford, therefore, had been 
 mounted on horses and, guarded by about twenty 
 warriors, were started on a rough trail to the moun- 
 tain gorge where, the night before, the devil dance 
 had infuriated their followers and prepared them to 
 resist the troops that might be sent against them. 
 
 They rode in the gloom of night, for the moon 
 had now disappeared. The trail was strewn with 
 rocks, over which the horses of the captives stum- 
 bled, and they were often obliged to dismount at 
 steep places on the mountainside. The mufflers 
 over their faces not only prevented their speaking 
 to each other, but interfered with their breathing in 
 the difficult parts of the ascent. They were, there- 
 fore, released from the stifling bandages and lariat 
 
 232 
 
In the Hidden Stronghold 
 bonds, but that they might exchange no word or 
 utter a cry for help they were separated and put 
 under different guards. 
 
 Half conscious of their desperate situation, the 
 captives rode on with feelings dulled by pain and 
 fatigue and by the shock which their capture and 
 violent removal out of the canon had brought to 
 them. 
 
 The air was growing colder and their limbs were 
 numbed, but neither Redford nor Eulalia yet de- 
 spaired of being rescued. Eulalia had such confi- 
 dence in the sympathy and friendship of her people 
 that she believed they would soon interfere with 
 their captors and insist on her release. Redford 
 thought they would delay to inflict any violence 
 which might be intended until there was some coun- 
 cil of the principal men of their party over their 
 captives, and meanwhile Captain Nelson and the 
 troops at his call w^ould make a rapid pursuit and 
 deliver them. But, though ignorant of the designs 
 of their foes, each felt that never before had they 
 need of such courage and fortitude and of divine 
 protection as in the trouble which had now befallen 
 them. 
 
 As the hours of that ride passed, widening the 
 distance between them and their friends, w^ho, per- 
 haps, did not yet know of their capture, the con- 
 viction of their terrible plight was forced upon them. 
 They perceived that they were being carried into a 
 rough and unfrequented part of the reservation. 
 There was but a single trail, instead of several side 
 
 233 
 
Chunda 
 
 by side where many were wont to ride together. 
 The cold was increasingly severe. They shivered in 
 their light wraps. Little was said by the Navajo 
 warriors, and they gave no heed to questions or 
 remonstrances from their captives , who, as the 
 hours went on, were convinced that they were to be 
 detained a long time from their friends. There 
 were more foreboding evils. They were to be in 
 the power of the Shamans, and Eulalia knew well 
 their vindictiveness and desperation. As a member 
 of the tribe, she was liable to be charged by them 
 with crimes which she could only expiate by a cruel 
 death. Redford was hated as a white man and 
 cursed for his influence over their people, and for 
 his instigation of the building of institutions and 
 change of occupations which would free them from 
 the control of the Shamans. Only the fear of the 
 government at Washington had hitherto restrained 
 them from violence against him. Would he be safe 
 from it now, when he was wholly in their power, 
 although by an accident which had delivered him 
 rather than Captain Nelson into their clutches? 
 
 Such thoughts were now bringing both Eulalia 
 and her companion, though separate from each 
 other, into a state of anxiety and alarm in sorrowful 
 contrast with the happy anticipations and sympa- 
 thies in which they had indulged as they rode away 
 from Hedipa Hospital the previous afternoon. 
 
 Neither of them could satisfactorily conjecture 
 what would be the measures for their recapture, for 
 the speedy announcement of their seizure by the 
 
 234 
 
ENTRANCE TO THE GORGE 
 
In the HroDEN Stronghold 
 
 Navajos depended on the fidelity and safety of their 
 two guides. Would they ever be found in this 
 mysterious retreat to which they were being carried ? 
 Could any force rescue them from the wrath and 
 cruelty of the Shamans ? Eulalia turned from these 
 questions which rose repeatedly to her lips to quiet 
 her heart with the assurance that her betrothed, 
 though filled with anguish at her fate, would spare 
 no effort to solve its mystery. She knew not the 
 will of God, whether or not it would preserve her 
 life, but she believed in the devotion of him whom 
 she was so soon to call her husband. Her faith 
 roused her to stronger purpose and willingness to 
 suffer, if need be, for what had been already accom- 
 plished through her for the redemption of her 
 people. Long before this she had resolved to die 
 before she would relinquish her efforts for her help- 
 less and suffering kinsfolk. 
 
 The sunlight was streaming over the rugged spur 
 of the mountain they had been climbing for the last 
 hour, when the captives looked down into a rock- 
 girt basin. Isolated rocks rose in distorted shapes 
 of men and animals beneath her. The black mouths 
 of caverns and the shadows of narrow rocky pas- 
 sages increased the terrors of the scene. Here was 
 the hiding place of the warriors, the council house 
 of the Shamans, the secret arsenal and fortress 
 known only to the principal men of the tribe, who 
 were their trusty followers. They had approached 
 this retreat by a single trail through a narrow 
 caiion, but now the warriors led their captives far 
 
 235 
 
Chunda 
 
 within the basin and stopped under the shadow of a 
 blackened wall that divided an open space and con- 
 tained a cavern which afforded a secure lodgment 
 for their victims. Here they were placed beside a 
 fire, and food was offered to them. 
 
 Happily they were now together, yet they waited 
 an opportunity to speak alone and to encourage 
 each other in their dismal plight. But soon Eulalia, 
 leaning against a rock, sank to sleep from exhaus- 
 tion and grief, while Redford calmed his spirit with 
 a prayer for that human succor which only Heaven 
 could make effective for their deliverance from such 
 a dungeon. 
 
 In the excitement of the flight and capture in the 
 canon Nesito had been separated from the other 
 guide, and riding into the shadow of the wall oppo- 
 site the ravine he watched the motions of the cap- 
 tors. As he was trying to discover the intentions of 
 the Navajos as to the disposal of their prisoners he 
 recalled the name of the secret council house, which 
 one of the Navajos had uttered as they were cross- 
 ing the stream. He had often heard of its existence, 
 but as a secret hidden from most of the tribe. Nesito 
 also bethought himself of Captain Nelson and of his 
 danger, should he be also waited for in this place. 
 
 The Navajos had disappeared up the ravine, leav- 
 ing their horses in charge of one of their number. 
 It was difficult to avoid suspicion should he move 
 out of the shadows, but he turned his horse's head 
 down the cafion and slowly rode away. Hearing 
 others behind him, he quickened his pace, and, 
 
 236 
 
In the Hidden Stronghold 
 
 finding he was not molested, put his horse to a swift 
 gallop. He was near the hospital when he met Cap- 
 tain Nelson and told him not only of his danger, 
 but the dreadful tidings of the capture of Nizenni 
 and the Maestro. He then, in calmer tones, re- 
 counted the rumors he had heard of the gathering 
 of the warriors for some secret expedition and the 
 probable place to which they had borne their prison- 
 ers for concealment. 
 
 Captain Nelson listened with a pallid face to the 
 terrible news; then he grew livid with wrath. But 
 it was, he remembered, the time for self-control and 
 calm decision, and in a few minutes he had chosen 
 how to meet the fearful emergency. Turning his 
 horse, he rode quickly to the hospital, summoned 
 the attendants, and, sending for Margaret, told them 
 all of the capture and the flight of the warriors. 
 
 To pacify the terror and grief of Margaret he 
 asked her to take charge of the hospital in Eulalia's 
 place, give directions to the nurses and patients, 
 and conduct the household until he should return. 
 Then, writing a dispatch to Major Culvert, who was 
 at Chin-a-li with the government inspector, he gave 
 the tidings of Eulalia's capture and the additional 
 information of the Shaman conspiracy which 
 friendly Navajos had been bringing him since he 
 arrived at the hospital, and asked that the military 
 forces and mounted police be summoned to Chin-a-li 
 to guard the buildings and march to the rescue of 
 the captives. Captain Nelson added that he knew 
 the place where they would be concealed. When 
 
 237 
 
Chunda 
 
 on one of his hunts in his youth he had followed a 
 trail up a mountain and discovered the secret resort 
 of the Shamans. He had explored its caves and 
 rocky channels and discovered even then some of 
 the arms and ammunition there kept in hiding. Re- 
 turning, he had revealed the discovery to the chief, 
 his father, by whom he had been enjoined to the 
 strictest secrecy. Now the remembrance of it filled 
 him with dread for the fate of his beloved Eulalia 
 and her companion in the power of the most cruel 
 and violent men of the tribe. He was sure he could 
 discover again the beginning of the trail and 
 guide a force to the inevitable conflict which would 
 take place. He concluded his dispatch in these 
 words: "Let every available soldier and mounted 
 Navajo policemen, who is not needed for the de- 
 fense of the school and hospital buildings, be mus- 
 tered for this hazardous service. I will be at Chin- 
 a-li at daybreak." 
 
 The dispatch was sent by Nesito and another 
 trusty Navajo, and in half an hour was in Major 
 Culvert's hands. 
 
 Meanwhile. Captain Nelson, who could not leave 
 the hospital without sufficient protection, had been 
 imparting to Margaret Redford and the nurses some 
 of the apparent hopefulness with which he entered 
 upon the arrangements for the march and rescue, 
 though his heart was being torn with anguish for 
 his betrothed. 
 
 The friendly Navajos were gathering in consid- 
 erable numbers at the hospital. Many of them were 
 
 238 
 
In the Hidden Stronghold 
 
 armed with Winchesters, and those who were known 
 to him he called together and told them of the out- 
 rage that had been already committed at the instiga- 
 tion of the Shamans. Relying upon their devotion 
 to Eulalia, he asked them to form a guard for the 
 hospital and to send trusty scouts up the cafion to 
 report the approach of any Navajos in war paint. 
 He also organized them under their principal men 
 into an auxiliary force to the soldiers who would be 
 stationed at the hospital in the morning. 
 
 Then Captain Nelson called for volunteers to 
 guard in a similar way the buildings at Chin-a-li. 
 More than fifty Navajos promised to be there at 
 sunrise. Most of them waited until Captain Nel- 
 son's departure, that they might be properly vouched 
 for to the officer in command. 
 
 The hours of the night, so painfully passed by the 
 captives in their cruel bonds, were thus spent in 
 preparations for their deliverance and the safety of 
 the institutions for which their lives were now in 
 peril. 
 
 Major Culvert had acted promptly on the receipt 
 of the alarming news and dispatch from the super- 
 intendent, and as the sun was rising the whole avail- 
 able force of cavalry with their howitzers arrived 
 at Chin-a-li, where they found Captain Nelson and 
 the Navajo volunteers and Major Culvert with the 
 mounted police already on the ground. 
 
 The troops and volunteers were quickly detailed 
 for service. A guard of twenty soldiers, with a 
 howitzer, was sent to the Hedipa Hospital. An- 
 
 239 
 
Chunda 
 
 other g-iiard of twenty-five soldiers, with fifty Nava- 
 jos and a howitzer, was stationed in and around the 
 Industrial School buildings. Fifty picked cavalry 
 and twenty of the police under Major Culvert, with 
 two howitzers and ten Navajo scouts, constituted 
 the force which, without much delay, was ordered 
 to take up their line of march under the guidance 
 of Captain Nelson and in command of Major Med- 
 ford, a recognized veteran of experience in Apache 
 fighting. 
 
 The road up to the mesa above the Chelly Canon 
 was difficult, but when the level ground was reached 
 Captain Nelson started in an easterly course over 
 a trail leading to a range of mountains occasionally 
 seen above the pifion trees which covered the mesa. 
 Making for a low spur of this range, he found a 
 ravine, which, being followed to its head, brought 
 them into a trail on which many fresh tracks of 
 horses and footmen were seen. His hunter's in- 
 stinct, quickened by the intense eagerness and agony 
 of his mind, had discovered the trail which twenty 
 years before had led him to the spot where was now 
 concealed and in savage hands the one without 
 whom life would seem a mockery of all his hopes 
 and happiness. 
 
 It was two o'clock in the afternoon when the 
 scouts reported this trail. Nelson thought that there 
 were at least twenty miles of mountain climbing 
 before they could reach the fortress of the Navajos. 
 The trail was more and more difficult, and the last 
 five miles would be through thickets and wood- 
 
 240 
 
In the Hidden Stronghold 
 
 growths requiring the most cautious advance to 
 guard against ambuscades. 
 
 It was evident that it would be nightfall before 
 the gorge or basin could be reached where the 
 Shamans and their followers were posted. They 
 would guard most jealously the narrow rocky 
 canon, where they would make their most vigorous 
 defense. The cavalry would be impeded by their 
 horses, and Major Medford, therefore, ordered that 
 his troops and the police should dismount at the 
 entrance of the wood, and advance with the howitz- 
 ers on foot, throwing out scouts to discover the 
 beginning of the canon, and there to halt till day- 
 light. Then the engagement should begin, if they 
 were not sooner attacked, and should be relentlessly 
 fought for the extermination of the Shamans and 
 all of the warriors wdio, refusing to surrender, 
 should fight in their defense. 
 
 Without doubt, the hostile Navajos had been 
 already informed of the approach of the troops, and, 
 unless they were fully committed to the side of the 
 Shamans, many would be likely to desert them be- 
 fore sundown ; but the rest would make a stubborn 
 resistance in what seemed to them a place impossible 
 to penetrate if resolutely defended. 
 
 There were increasing dangers from ambuscade as 
 the attacking force made their way upward through 
 ravines and thickets, but no attack was attempted. 
 The Shamans evidently desired to retain all their 
 strength for the defense of their stronghold. If 
 they could make a successful resistance, and kill a 
 
 241 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 few United States troops, they believed the war 
 spirit would spread like a devouring flame through 
 their mesa parks, and that few of their three thou- 
 sand able-bodied warriors would fail to take the 
 warpath against the foes to their traditions and 
 their people. Then they could quickly destroy all 
 the troops within or on the borders of their reser- 
 vation. 
 
 They had boldly struck at the leaders of the re- 
 form movement in their tribe. It was likely that 
 they would hasten to condemn them to death, that 
 their blood might infuriate their followers to a 
 spirited defense and a devastating war. 
 
 These aspects of the situation seemed to increase 
 the peril of Eulalia and Redford. The progress of 
 the march was so slow that Captain Nelson's heart 
 was wrenched at every delay, and the postponement 
 of the attack till morning snatched away all reason- 
 able hope that the lives of the captives would be 
 spared. 
 
 But the success of the attack depended on the 
 advantages which daylight would afford in the 
 deadly assault that would lead to the destruction of 
 one or the other of the conflicting forces. 
 
 242 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THROUGH THE FIRES INTO LIFE 
 
 The morning hours had passed in the mountain 
 fortress with increasing forebodings of evil designs 
 against the captives. It was a rehef to Redford to 
 perceive Eulaha's exhaustion, for she was still much 
 inclined to sleep and but partly sensible of the peril 
 that hung over them both. From the entrance of 
 the cavern where they were confined could be seen 
 much that was transpiring around them. New faces 
 were peering in upon them every few minutes, and 
 the noise of many voices and angry altercations was 
 reechoed from the rocks and caves around the open 
 space upon which they looked from their prison. 
 
 There were many arrivals from the dance until 
 noon, each one announced by an exulting laugh or 
 whoop as they leaped down into the gorge. There 
 was evidently yet no thought of the avenging force 
 that was approaching them from another direction 
 than the one they had taken, and by a trail known 
 to only the chief Shamans. Their movements were 
 too deliberate to betray any unusual excitement, 
 such as the report of the advance of a rescuing party 
 would have produced among these warriors. 
 
 The Shamans were heard to announce that they 
 would wait until sundown, that everyone of their 
 own number might be present at the trial of the cap- 
 
 243 
 
Chunda 
 
 tives, and a few other principal men of large influ- 
 ence might arrive, on whose cooperation they were 
 depending in their plot to expel the white men from 
 their reservation. Their absence had already caused 
 them some uneasiness. 
 
 But it was difficult to restrain the growing im- 
 patience of those who were already here. Some of 
 them insisted that a force be sent to guard the en- 
 trance of the gorge as far as the beginning of the 
 mountain canon. There were a few who volun- 
 teered to go, but no one to give the command. The 
 war chief had not yet arrived. Without his consent 
 their fighting would be unauthorized and desultory, 
 and must fail to command the support of the tribe. 
 But there were a number of scouts who posted them- 
 selves at the entrance of the gorge to learn from late 
 comers any tidings they might have of the move- 
 ments of troops near Chin-a-li. 
 
 About four o'clock in the afternoon the Shamans 
 decided to begin the trial in order to hold the rest- 
 less warriors within the fortress. Fires were lighted 
 in the center of the open space, and the Navajos 
 with fierce and exulting countenances seated them- 
 selves in a large circle around the burning logs of 
 pifion and cedar. 
 
 Fifteen Shamans, arrayed in their most imposing 
 dresses and ornaments and in hideous masks, came 
 slowly out from their council house, a large in- 
 closure of high rocks, and took seats upon a ledge 
 elevated above the others. Nearly a hundred and 
 fifty grim warriors and a few principal men who 
 
 244 
 
Through the Fires into Life 
 
 were not yet in war paint joined in the low chant 
 which was started by a Shaman. As its tones 
 reached the ears of the captives Eulaha compre- 
 hended by the few words that came at intervals dis- 
 tinctly to her the deadly purpose of their council. 
 She knew that her life and that of her fellow captive 
 depended now on the effect of the incantations of the 
 malignant Shamans on the inflammable and savage 
 passions of the warriors. 
 
 The sounds rose louder and more piercing, and 
 the shouts of the warriors drowned the shrill cries 
 of the leaders. Then the din suddenly ceased. Five 
 warriors appeared at the mouth of the cavern, darted 
 in, and seizing the prisoners by the hands made them 
 rise to their feet. They cut the bands which held 
 their limbs, led them out into the dazzling firelight, 
 and placed them in the midst of the circle of faces 
 grim with fury, for their voices had been by com- 
 mand of the Shamans abruptly stilled. 
 
 As an angry murmur was beginning to go over 
 the assembly the chief Shaman rose and pointed to 
 Eulalia. Another came forward and laying hold of 
 her outer wrap tore it from her shoulders. Then, 
 throwing over her head the skirt of a Navajo 
 woman and fastening a blanket around her shoul- 
 ders, that she might thus be clothed in the garb of 
 her tribe, he led her forward to the seats of the 
 Shamans. As Eulalia left Redford's side, with un- 
 faltering voice he said : 
 
 "Courage, brave heart. Your Lord also wit- 
 nessed a good confession. He will sustain you, and 
 
 245 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 by his Spirit tell you what to say to your accusers. 
 You have fought a good fight. Perhaps you have 
 finished your course already in your youth, but you 
 have kept the faith, and your people will be re- 
 deemed. Your crown awaits you above. Farewell, 
 Eulalia!" 
 
 She turned a look of grateful love upon her com- 
 panion. She had only time to say, "God be with 
 you too, dear friend," and walked firmly away to- 
 ward her foes. 
 
 Then the chief Shaman in loud voice told the 
 changes that this treacherous daughter of their tribe 
 had already wrought, and the power she had gained 
 over the minds of their women, whom she was lead- 
 ing astray from their gods. He declared her in 
 league not only with the recreant son of one of their 
 chiefs who had returned from the w-hite men to 
 delude their youth, but she was also possessed by 
 devils that would destroy their children, bring dis- 
 ease on their flocks, and blight their cornfields till 
 the tribe should dwindle away and the white men 
 take possession of the country of their fathers. He 
 ended his charges with a torrent of invectives and 
 curses, demanding that this woman be tortured in 
 order to exorcise the devil and destroy her witch 
 power, and that then she be burned to appease the 
 Navajo god. 
 
 The accuser's w^ords produced an effect more 
 quickly than he could have expected. Loud cries 
 went around the circle of listeners, and they sprang 
 to their feet in their excitement, but Eulalia grew 
 
 246 
 
Through the Fires into Life 
 
 calmer amid their imprecations and raised her eyes 
 toward heaven. 
 
 The chief Shaman suddenly motioned for silence, 
 and after a moment's pause turned to the accused 
 maiden. 
 
 "Nizenni," he cried, "will you cease your efforts 
 to chang-e your people? Will you submit to the 
 power and guidance of the Shamans? Will you 
 again declare your faith in the gods of your ances- 
 tors?" 
 
 Eulalia looked resolutely into the eyes of the 
 Shaman, who had now dropped his mask, and she 
 perceived their malice and cunning. Then, raising 
 her voice in clear but gentle accents, she replied : 
 
 "I have nothing to declare but my faith in the 
 Lord Jesus Christ, which is dearer to me than life. 
 My work for my people no suffering you can inflict 
 shall ever make me cease, or them forget, so long as 
 I live." 
 
 Then, turning to her foes around her, she cried : 
 
 "What have I ever done to you that was evil? 
 Have I not relieved the sickness and pain of your 
 wives and children? What death have I hastened? 
 What words have I spoken to deceive them? For 
 that good work which I have wrought among you 
 will you consent to my condemnation to cruel pain 
 and death?" 
 
 Eulalia's face so shone with the light of love that 
 it touched a chief's son who was already of great 
 influence among his nation, and who, though in this 
 murderous throng, had no war paint on his face. 
 
 247 
 
CnUNDA 
 
 He stepped forward to separate himself from the 
 others and cried out : 
 
 "Navajos, beware of your Shaman masters! 
 Protect this girl of your tribe from their wrath. 
 Her death will be avenged." 
 
 A shout interrupted this bold outcry so unex- 
 pected. The w^arriors sprang to their feet and 
 brandished their rifles and spears. 
 
 "Let her be tried by fire !" "Kill the devil in her !" 
 "Save the tribe!" they hoarsely yelled. 
 
 The chief Shaman seized the favorable moment 
 of fury that had taken possession of the assembly. 
 He made a gesture toward a cave to which two of 
 the Shamans ran, and then quickly came back hold- 
 ing in their hands iron pincers flaming hot. 
 
 They rushed up to Eulalia, while the cries of the 
 warriors again were hushed. They tore the blanket 
 from her shoulders and stripped her dress from her 
 arms and neck, laying bare her bosom, from which 
 they each tore out with the red-hot prongs pieces 
 of quivering flesh. 
 
 In those moments of torture Eulalia uttered no 
 sound. Then, as they ceased, she looked down on 
 her bleeding bosom in an ecstasy of the spirit. 
 
 "Thus, Lord," she cried, in triumph over her 
 agony, "do they write thy name over my heart. 
 Thou givest me the victory, O Christ! For thee 
 and my people I suffer. Thy will be done !" 
 
 A martyr spirit from the early days of the church 
 must have waved over her head at that moment a 
 palm of victory, for a strange light flashed upon 
 
 248 
 
Through the Fires Into Life 
 
 the dreadful scene and rested for a moment on 
 her rapt face, whose beautiful eyes glanced upward 
 ere she sank to the ground. 
 
 The test of exorcism had failed. No demoniac 
 cry had come from the victim as the evil spirit fled. 
 
 But the hate of devils in human form had not 
 been sated. The Shamans now called above the 
 confusion for wood and fire. Some of them leaped 
 to the ground and seized sticks from a pile of pinon, 
 while others bound the trembling form of Eulalia 
 to a post and heaped around her feet the pitchy fuel. 
 A brand was cast under it. The flame arose, but 
 still the victim uttered no witch's scream. 
 
 A cry of agony escaped from Redford. He had 
 burst his bonds and, leaping to the pile, had scat- 
 tered with his feet the half-kindled sticks, when a 
 shot rang out above the angry roar of the warriors, 
 and he fell at her side in mortal agony. 
 
 That shot from a Navajo rifle awakened others. 
 A startling volley reechoed from the entrance of the 
 gorge, which was in full view of the scene. Ten 
 of the Shamans, standing on the ledge, had been 
 prominent marks for the unerring rifles of the 
 troops, who now thronged the gorge. Their bul- 
 lets had also plowed through the massed warriors, 
 of whom a score had fallen, leaving a wide gap 
 through to the smoking brands. Another volley 
 made a path in another direction through the war- 
 riors, who had crowded closely together, and twenty 
 soldiers, led by Captain Nelson, dashed over the 
 bodies of those that fell. A moment more and they 
 
 249 
 
Chunda 
 
 had cut the lariat which held the victim to the stake, 
 and Nelson, catching her in his arms, bore her be- 
 hind the rampart of rock into the cave where she 
 had been confined. 
 
 For a few moments there was an awful struggle. 
 The warriors changed their shouts to mad war 
 wdioops and seized their rifles. But fifty soldiers and 
 trained police were charging upon them with car- 
 bines in one hand and swords or revolvers in the 
 other, as they fought hand-to-hand with the desper- 
 ate savages. Many of these fled to the rocks, from 
 which they poured a rapid fire upon the soldiers. 
 But they were relentlessly pursued by the latter to 
 their corners and there mercilessly slain in their 
 tracks. 
 
 The Shamans who survived the first volley fled to 
 their council house, and a dozen cavalrymen, wit- 
 nessing their flight, pursued them and cut them 
 down with their swords. 
 
 That hour was the doom of Shamanism. Its sun 
 had set, and there rose above the smoke of its de- 
 struction the star of a better hope for the Navajo 
 nation. 
 
 The followers of the Shamans who persisted in 
 fighting shared their fate, and the rest in half an 
 hour had been hunted out of their hiding places and 
 brought to the spot where they had exultingly wit- 
 nessed the sufferings of the innocent victim of their 
 hatred and superstition. Scarcely a third of the 
 warriors survived the carnage of that half hour. 
 They sullenly surrendered their arms to the victors, 
 
 250 
 
Through the Fires Into Life 
 
 and were put under a heavy guard in the Shamans' 
 council house, from which there was no escape. 
 
 Of the eighteen soldiers and Navajo police that 
 fell in this conflict, six were killed and seven others 
 mortally wounded. As their comrades were gather- 
 ing them out of the heaped-up bodies of the dead 
 warriors they came upon the lifeless form of Red- 
 ford lying amid the smoking brands which he had 
 dashed away from Eulalia before she was overcome 
 by the flame which had been driven by gusts of air 
 into her face. Taking up his body, the soldiers laid 
 it beside their dead comrades, casting a soldier's coat 
 over it, and reported their discovery to Major 
 Culvert. 
 
 Eulalia had been wonderfully delivered from the 
 missiles which flew so thickly about her, but there 
 was little hope of restoring her to consciousness. 
 While the conflict was raging Captain Nelson, in 
 the cavern to which he had borne her helpless body 
 away from the fighting, was chafing her hands, and 
 from time to time forcing brandy into her mouth. 
 She had firmly set her lips and shut her eyes when 
 the flame rose around her, but it had, at the moment 
 of her rescue, reached her lungs and caused a col- 
 lapse, from which there were now but the faintest 
 signs of recovery in a slight motion of her lips and 
 a flutter at her heart. 
 
 The darkness had now settled upon the awful 
 scene of death within this rock-girt valley, but fires 
 were burning to aid the victors in caring for the 
 wounded and piling the dead in heaps. Guards 
 
 251 
 
ClIUNDA 
 
 were set at the entrance of the gorge which had 
 proved such a fatal inclosure to those who had so 
 long plotted here to enforce and maintain, by 
 violence and war, the traditions of their nation. 
 
 The insane fury of the warriors and their absorp- 
 tion in the cruelties of Eulalia's trial and tortures, 
 which had also engrossed the attention of their sen- 
 tinels, had made possible the surprise which had 
 overwhelmed them with well-deserved vengeance. 
 But they had been betrayed by one whose daughter 
 had been healed by Nizenni's skill, though he had 
 remained obdurate to the entreaties of his wife to 
 join the supporters of her work. 
 
 The sight of Nizenni's pitiful condition as she 
 was awaiting her fate in the cavern, which he knew 
 would be certain condemnation and death, had un- 
 nerved his stern heart, already moved by her kind- 
 ness, and he had fled from the fortress down the 
 trail where he met the troops after they had dis- 
 mounted. Led by the scouts to Major Medford, he 
 had told him, in the presence of Captain Nelson, the 
 peril of Nizenni and the Maestro, and of the war- 
 riors' ignorance of the near approach of the troops. 
 Major Medford needed no urging, therefore, to 
 order the troops to an immediate attack and rescue 
 of the prisoners. The soldiers remounted their 
 horses and forced their way through the thickets 
 and openings of the wood to within a mile of the 
 gorge. Then, dragging the howitzers up the steep 
 sides of the mountain, they reached the canon, which 
 they found deserted, and captured the Navajos at 
 
 252 
 
Through the Fires Into Life 
 
 the entrance of the fortress before their alarm was 
 perceived by the infuriated warriors at their mur- 
 derous revel. The howitzers were placed in a posi- 
 tion to cut off their retreat and loaded with shrapnel. 
 Then, forming for charge, they fired their first rifle 
 volleys from two directions upon the throng of 
 Navajos, and dashed into hand-to-hand conflict ere 
 the warriors were fully aware of the strength of 
 their assailants. 
 
 The night was spent by Nelson and Major Cul- 
 vert in anxious watching over Eulalia, slowly re- 
 turning to consciousness, but there was but little 
 hope that she could survive the shock and prostra- 
 tion which revived sensibility to pain would bring 
 upon her. Though the wounded soldiers needed his 
 utmost skill and strength, the army surgeon, while 
 caring for the brave veterans, at their own request 
 came every half hour to alleviate her suffering and 
 administer such gentle stimulants as were at his 
 command. 
 
 The construction of rude stretchers and litters 
 for the dead and wounded went on through the 
 night. In the morning the hidden arms and ammu- 
 nition of the Navajos were gathered out of the caves 
 and packed for transportation. The prisoners were 
 securely bound and orders given to their guards to 
 shoot them down if they attempted to escape on the 
 march to Chin-a-li, which began before noon. 
 
 Saddest, perhaps, of the sights in that long train 
 which stretched through the canon was the litter, 
 carefully covered with canvas, that bore the almost 
 
 253 
 
Chunda 
 
 lifeless victim, still lingering in stupor, from that 
 place of dreadful slaughter. Behind the group of 
 bearers that surrounded her litter was carried the 
 bo<ly of her companion in captivity on the rude 
 stretcher, still covered with the soldier's cloak. 
 Then followed other stretchers on which lay the 
 wounded soldiers and their dead comrades. The 
 mountain fortress became a charnel house for the 
 slain Navajos. With wholesome dread of their 
 crime and its expiation, their people have never 
 again entered it, and avoid every trail that leads into 
 the gorge. 
 
 It was near the close of the day that the train 
 reached Chin-a-li, where the dead soldiers and Na- 
 vajo police were left for burial ; but Eulalia's litter, 
 followed by the body of her faithful friend and the 
 wounded soldiers, was carried on to Hedipa Hos- 
 pital. 
 
 The tidings of the conflict and its tragic ending 
 had reached Margaret by a scout sent forward by 
 Major Medford. She had waited all the afternoon 
 and evening for the wounded soldiers, for whom 
 every needed preparation was made in the ward and 
 operating room, but when toward evening another 
 courier brought a letter from Major Culvert at 
 Chin-a-li, telling her of the torture of Eulalia and 
 that her father was dead, she rallied all her self- 
 control to stem the tide of grief that seemed ready 
 to overwhelm her spirit. 
 
 They bore Eulalia to her room, for she was in 
 254 
 
Through the Fires Into Life 
 
 the tender care of Captain Nelson and the nurses, 
 and unconscious of what was done with her. But 
 Margaret Redford received her father's Hfeless 
 body, calmly giving directions for its disposal till 
 she could be left alone with it. She knelt beside the 
 cot on which it was laid, and called Nesito, who had 
 learned from a wounded Navajo, ere he died, the 
 story of her father's rescue of Eulalia from the 
 flames. With surprise and anguish Margaret 
 listened to its recital, then bowed in reverence and 
 tears over one who had heroically "finished a life 
 heroic" in its sacrifice for others. 
 
 In the loneliness of that silent cahon, still in the 
 early hours of the morning, she knelt by that loved 
 form. There seemed to be no more, for her, a wis- 
 dom not her own on which she could lean. The 
 years had taken from her both father and mother, 
 but their unselfish lives were calling her to take up 
 a lowly work of love among these poor children of 
 God. 
 
 They buried Redford near the grave of Hedipa, 
 where, by the service of the church, he had conse- 
 crated the ground in which his own ashes were to 
 lie in the hope of the resurrection of the dead. 
 
 Was Eulalia to be placed beside him? This was 
 an anxious question of her friends in many days and 
 weeks of watching and tenderest care. Slowly she 
 returned to conscious life, but at first her feeble 
 grasp upon it seemed often to be loosened. Still 
 she struggled. The watchfulness of Margaret, the 
 skill of the devoted nurses, the undying hope of 
 
 255 
 
Chunda 
 
 Captain Nelson, all combined to help her live. Fate 
 seemed against it ; but at last she stepped again upon 
 her feet and moved about her room. Then she 
 gained more rapidly. 
 
 One day she was wheeled through the corridors 
 of the hospital to the broad portal to look up the 
 cafion where, many weeks before, she joyfully rode 
 with her protector to the dance. The scene brought 
 back her ardent hopes on that evening to be to him 
 who had since then so devotedly rescued and cared 
 for her the loving helper of his noble undertaking. 
 She was stronger the next day. 
 
 By the sympathy and smiles of her people, who 
 now often stopped at the hospital gate, she was en- 
 couraged, and a belief in her recovery was inspired 
 within her soul by the light of hope in their eyes. 
 
 One summer evening Captain Nelson, sitting be- 
 side her reclining chair on the portal, observed with 
 anxiety an unusual flush on her pale cheeks which 
 lingered after the sunset hues had ceased to be re- 
 flected upon them from the reddened sides of the 
 canon. 
 
 He put forth his hand to stroke her brow, but 
 she gently took it in her own and held it back, 
 while she said, pausing for strength to give answer 
 to his long-waiting heart: 
 
 "Edward, tomorrow will be the anniversary of 
 the completion of the hospital. Let us thank God 
 and take courage. Your work is fully begun and 
 prospers ; mine is established in the hearts of these 
 Navajos, and I am ready to leave it to her who has 
 
 256 
 
Through the Fires Into Life 
 
 so tenderly watched me and guided its affairs in my 
 sickness. Margaret has told me of Major Culvert's 
 longing to make her his, and they are betrothed 
 already. Let us make a place for them here. No 
 one could better direct this work than my loved fos- 
 ter sister, and her lover has today received notice of 
 his reappointment. There is a place for me at Chin- 
 a-li. You shall give it to me, as you have so often 
 and tenderly urged, as soon as you can find some 
 one to make me, with Heaven's blessing, your 
 wife." 
 
 Nelson bent lovingly toward her as she was speak- 
 ing; he kissed again and again her trembling lips 
 when she uttered that precious word. Then he said 
 softly : 
 
 "The Bishop arrived at Fort Defiance yesterday. 
 He will come to Chin-a-li with Major Culvert to- 
 morrow. Is that too soon, my darling?" 
 
 She lifted her beautiful eyes so that their won- 
 drous radiance fell upon his face and lighted his 
 own with joy. Tlien, giving her hand, she whis- 
 pered : 
 
 "Tomorrow? Then I must speak to Margaret 
 now." 
 
 THE END, 
 
 257 
 
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