It is a pathetic spectacle, this civilization which has perished, or is perishing, without the poor consolation of a history to record its sufferings.  It comes near to being a repetition of the silent death of the flint and bronze races, the mound-raisers, and cave-diggers, and cromlech-builders of Europe.

Captain Phineas Glover, rising at an early hour in the morning, and having had his nosebag of medicament refilled and refitted, set off on an appetizer around the ramparts of the pueblo, and came back marvelling.

“Been out to shake hands with these clever critters,” he said.  “Best behavin’ ‘n’ meekest lookin’ Injuns I ever see.  Put me in mind o’ cows ‘n’ lambs.  An’ neat!  ‘Most equal to Amsterdam Dutch.  Seen a woman sweepin’ up her husband’s tobacco ashes ‘n’ carryin’ ’em out to throw over the wall.  Jest what they do in Broek.  Ever been in Broek?  Tell ye ’bout it some time.  But how d’ye s’pose this town was built? I didn’t see no stun up here that was fit for quarryin’.  So I put it to a lot of fellers where they got their buildin’ m’ter’ls.  Wal, after figurin’ round a spell, ‘n’ makin’ signs by the schuner load, found out the hull thing.  Every stun in this place was whittled out ’f the ruff-scuff at the bottom of the mounting, ‘n’ fetched up here in blankets on men’s shoulders.  All the mud, too, to make their bricks, was backed up in the same way.  Feller off with his blanket ‘n’ showed me how they did it.  Beats all.  Wust of it was, couldn’t find out how long it took ’em, nor how the job was lotted out to each one.”

“I suppose they made their women do it,” said Aunt Maria grimly.  “Men usually put all the hard work on women.”

“Wal, women folks do a heap,” admitted Glover, who never contradicted anybody.  “But there’s reason to entertain a hope that they didn’t take the brunt of it here.  I looked over into the gardens down b’low the town, ‘n’ see men plantin’ corn, ‘n’ tendin’ peach trees, but didn’t see no women at it.  The women was all in the houses, spinnin’, weavin’, sewin’, ‘n’ fixin’ up ginerally.”

“Remarkable people!” exclaimed Aunt Maria.  “They are at least as civilized as we.  Very probably more so.  Of course they are.  I must learn whether the women vote, or in any way take part in the government.  If so, these Indians are vastly our superiors, and we must sit humbly at their feet.”

During this talk the worn and wounded Thurstane had been lying asleep.  He now appeared from his dormitory, nodded a hasty good-morning, and pushed for the door.

“Train’s all right,” said Glover.  “Jest took a squint at it.  Peaceful’s a ship becalmed.  Not a darned Apache in sight.”

“You are sure?” demanded the young officer.

“Better get some more peach-leaf pain-killer on your arm ‘n’ set straight down to breakfast.”

“If the Apaches have vamosed, Coronado might join us,” suggested Thurstane.

“Never!” answered Mrs. Stanley with solemnity.  “His ancestor stormed Cibola and ravaged this whole country.  If these people should hear his name pronounced, and suspect his relationship to their oppressor, they might massacre him.”