But not immediately. The mules were fagged with hard work, weak with want
of sufficient pasture, and had suffered much from thirst. He resolved to
continue westward to the pueblas of the Moquis, that interesting race of
agricultural and partially civilized Indians, perhaps the representatives
of the architects of the Casas Grandes if not also descended from the
mound-builders of the Mississippi valley. Having rested and refitted
there, he might start anew for the San Juan.

Thus far they had seen no Indians except the vagrants who had robbed
Phineas Glover. But they might now expect to meet them; they were in a
region which was the raiding ground of four great tribes: the Utes on the
north, the Navajos on the west, the Apaches on the south, and the
Comanches on the east. The peaceful and industrious Moquis, with their gay
and warm blankets, their fields of corn and beans, and their flocks of
sheep, are the quarry which attracts this ferocious cavalry of the desert,
these Tartars and Bedouin of America.

Thurstane took more pains than ever with the guard duty. Coronado,
unmilitary though he was, and heartily as he abominated the Lieutenant,
saw the wisdom of submitting to the latter's discipline, and made all his
people submit. A practical-minded man, he preferred to owe the safety of
his carcass to his rival rather than have it impaled on Apache lances.
Occasionally, however, he made a suggestion.

"It is very well, this night-watching," he once observed, "but what we
have most to fear is the open daylight. These mounted Indians seldom
attack in the darkness."

Thurstane knew all this, but he did not say so; for he was a wise,
considerate commander already, and he had learned not to chill an