in some way break the ice toward an acquaintance. At this request Ritchie laughed and the boy grinned. "He kin talk Americano as good as you and me kin; go ahead an' hit up a pow-wow with him," said Ritchie, and added, "His name is Begay."

At this glad news I turned to Begay and burst into a flow of explanations and questions. The boy stood mute, looking at me blankly, and after a long pause he answered in a soft half-whisper: "No savvy." I tried in every way to induce him to talk, but these were the only words he would utter. His continued silence and occasional solemn glances at Ritchie almost convinced me that the "trader" was playing a little joke on his guest; but I was reassured that the boy had attended the government school at Fort Defiance for two years, and could talk freely if he wanted to. Further efforts proved useless, but Begay continued to follow me around, always placing himself within sight of the silver stirrup dangling from my watch-pocket. At last I hit upon a plan. I would give him the stirrup. To see his face light up, to watch his big black eyes dance with pleasure, was worth fifty watch-fobs! With a grunt of satisfaction, he snatched the treasure from my hand, and concealing it in his blouse dashed out of the store.

It was only after a long search that I found him seated on the ground behind the wood-pile, gazing at the trinket with all his eyes, placing his finger in the tiny stirrup, holding it up by the strap with the other hand, and turning it in the sun to see it shine and glisten. His face this time met mine with a gracious smile; little by little I urged him to talk; and before the afternoon wore away we became fast friends.

That night Ritchie told me that the boy was about to trail a thousand sheep twentyfive miles across the desert to "Nip" Arments, a sheep buyer and cattle dealer, just off the reservation; and had come, in anticipation of his trip, to make arrangements to corral and feed the sheep for one night, as he expected to make "Two Gray Hills" his first stopping place.

Such an undertaking for so young a boy seemed to me incredible, but I was told that he had accomplished the same thing for the two previous years, and once with two thousand sheep. And, furthermore, he always went on foot, which to me made the achieve

ment even more remarkable. Ritchie could not understand my desire to accompany the lad on such a wearisome and monotonous journey, but, according to my wishes, he promised to "fix it up" so that I could go.

Three evenings later, a thin drift of dust appeared directly in the light of the setting sun, and by eight o'clock a thousand bleating sheep were driven into the cedar corral for the night. Many loosened bales of alfalfa were thrown in for them to eat, and the long, shallow troughs were filled with water. The boy was accompanied by his father to this point, who stopped only long enough to see the sheep safely corralled, and with a few parting words to Begay disappeared into the night toward his distant cornfields in the bottom-lands, where his squaws had already started the harvesting.

We started two hours before sun-up. The bars of the corral were lifted out, the dog wormed his way amongst the still sleeping herd, and suddenly the dim, gray mass poured out of the gate, turned a sharp angle to the left and streamed off into the darkness. A few quick, mysterious words from the boy sent the dog hurtling after. Begay, his blanket girded about his loins with an old cartridge-belt, a small haversack of buckskin hung over one shoulder, and a curious stick from which dangled a number of empty tomato-cans, suspended by thongs, left us without a word in the direction of the vanished herd; and with a hurried "so long" to Ritchie I followed him.

The long, hard journey had begun. Dust arose from the herd in clouds; I could not see it, but could feel it sift against my face, and I could taste the peculiar, sweet flavor of alkali. Frequent calls from the boy to his dog, punctuated by the occasional clatter of the tin cans on the stick was all that broke the silence beyond the soft, quivering rustle made by thousands of feet as they plodded through the sand.

The level horizon of the desert lay before us, toward which we slowly trudged through endless stretches of loose sand, around the bases of towering buttes and down into and out of many dry arroyos. It was in these places that I saw Begay put the mysterious stick with its jingling cans into effective use. To drive the sheep over the banks and down into the dry river beds was an easy matter, but to force them up the sharp aclivity on the opposite side required consid

erable strategy. As the herd approached the embankment, it would invariably turn either to the right or left and run along the base of it, vainly searching for easier footing. At a word from Begay, the well-trained dog would dash to the front of the bunch, frantically jumping and barking, nipping the legs of the leaders, and eventually turning the entire herd in the opposite direction. Then the boy from his position between the sheep and the open stretch of the arroyo, waving his blanket and hissing loudly, would hurl his stick and jingling cans in front of the sheep fast escaping through the unguarded side. The cans would jangle and crash on the stones and hard gravel, and the panic-stricken animals, frightened at the noise, would scramble up the bank. Begay would recover his "tanglang," as he called it, and we would laboriously crawl up after them.

The trip had been one of very few words; those that passed between us could be numbered on the fingers of one hand. Twice, with solemn gesture, he pointed out distant landmarks, and explained, in short, quick accent, "Toh," meaning water; and another time he fondly pulled the silver stirrup from inside his blouse, and, holding it up, smiled and questioned, "To qui?" meaning "how much?" I did not comprehend exactly what he meant, although I could interpret the words. Finally I answered, fully an hour later, "Peso," meaning one dollar. At this he smiled a broad, pleased smile, and from then on he would take out the ornament again and again, and holding it in the sunlight would watch it glisten, casting laughing sidelong glances at me.

Except in these few moments of slight diversion, Begay's attention was fixed steadfastly on his sheep, his eyes always watchful of the condition of the trail ahead. Toward the end of the afternoon he urged the sheep on at a faster pace, and frequently looked at the position of the sun.

His anxiety evidently grew greater as it neared the horizon, and once I questioned him about the distance to water, but he was silent and seemed not to be conscious of my presence.

The slow, steady walking since four o'clock that morning, with not even a halt for noon lunch, through heavy sands, up steep slopes, and over rough mounds of shale-rock and loose gravel, began to tell on

me. My thighs at times became cramped and stiff, and for miles I would walk stooped in order to proceed at all. And now, as the herd increased its speed to almost double, I was gradually left behind. Begay appeared as fresh as in the early morning. He walked with perfect ease and grace, his long, slender legs measuring off the distance in rhythmic steps, his body bent slightly forward, one arm clasping his blanket and "tanglang," and the other swinging free like a pendulum.

I managed to stagger along for an hour more with the herd well in the lead; the sun had disappeared behind a deep purple horizon, and the afterglow flooded the desert with a radiant, liquid light. All the earth glowed as though lighted from within, the very sands at my feet looked a stained orange, and the few clumps of dry, dusty sage-brush fairly burned in the weird light; while far ahead, just over the margin of a low hill, a great, red, golden cloud of dust told the tale of the fast-moving herd.

Twenty minutes of weary, anxious plodding brought me to the summit; the light was growing dim, but I could vaguely see, 'way down the gentle slope, a fringe of cedar clumps, and from beyond them I could hear the faint murmur of the sheep, like distant strains of many bagpipes. I knew they were nearing water; and I felt so relieved at the thought that it was comparatively near that I lay down in my tracks, and in perfect contentment watched the stars as they appeared one by one.

I don't know how long it was before I was suddenly conscious of a distant call; the sound drew nearer until I recognized the boyish voice of Begay. He had returned to find me, and as we slowly made our way in the dark, he told me in his own quaint way the reason of his anxiety and hurry: "Sheep no drink for long time-dark come quick-afraid for no find trail to water in deep hole-sheep run and fall on rock

get kill." And with a long impressive pause, "Me no want kill sheep-Savvy?" I understood, but I understood far better when we cautiously picked our way down one of the most precipitous trails I ever saw. How he managed to get those thousand restless, thirsty sheep down into that canyon, fully two hundred feet deep, unscathed, as they proved to be, is far beyond my imagination. It was incredible!