THE ENCHANTED CANYON

CHAPTER VII

THE DESERT

“If I had a son, I would teach him obedience as heaven’s first law, for so only can a man be trained to obey his own better self.”—­Enoch’s Diary.

The Secretary had no intention of waking the strange little village at night.  He thought that, once he had relocated it, he would wait until dawn before rousing any one.  But he had not counted on the village dogs.  These set up such an outcry that, while Enoch leaned quietly against a rude corral fence waiting for the hullaballoo to cease, the door of the house nearest opened, and a man came out.  He stood for a moment very deliberately staring at the Secretary, whose polite “Good morning” could not be heard above the dogs’ uproar.

Enoch, with a half grin, dropped his satchel and held up both hands.  The man, half smiling in response, kicked and cursed the dogs into silence.  Then he approached Enoch.  He was a small, swarthy chap, clad in overalls and an undershirt.

“You’re a Pueblo Indian?” asked the Secretary.

The Indian nodded.  “What you want?”

“I want to buy a horse.”

“Where you come from?”

“Off that train that went through a while ago.”

“This not Ash Fork,” said the Indian.  “You make mistake.  Ash Fork that way,” jerking his thumb westward.  “You pass through Ash Fork.”

Enoch nodded.  “You sell me a horse?”

“I rent you horse.  You leave him at Hillers’ in Ash Fork.  I get him.”

“No, I want to buy a horse.  Now I’m in the desert I guess I’ll see a little of it.  Maybe I’ll ride up that way,” waving a careless arm toward the north.  “Maybe you’ll sell me some camping things, blankets and a coffee pot.”

“All right,” said the Indian.  “When you want ’em?”

“Now, if I can get them.”

“All right!  I fix ’em.”

He spoke to one of the other Indians who were sticking curious heads out of black doorways.  In an incredibly short time Enoch was the possessor of a thin, muscular pony, well saddled, two blankets, one an Army, the other a Navajo, a frying pan, a coffee pot, a canteen and enough flour, bacon and coffee to see him through the day.  He also achieved possession of a blue flannel shirt and a pair of overalls.  He paid without question the price asked by the Indians.  Dawn was just breaking when he mounted his horse.

“Where does that trail lead?” he asked, pointing to one that started north from the corral.

“To Eagle Springs, five miles,” answered the Indian.

“And after that?”

“East to Allman’s ranch, north to Navajo camp.”

“Thanks,” said Enoch.  “Good-by!” and he turned his pony to the trail.