Alas! The most piercing shrieks I ever heard brought me upright in bed
with every hair standing on end. It was morning. I looked at Virginia's
bed. I could see her quite distinctly, parts of her at least. Her head
was buried, ostrich-wise, in the blankets, while her feet beat a wild
tattoo in the air. Stell woke up and joined the chorus. The cause of it
all was a bewildered Navajo buck who stood mutely in the doorway,
staring at the havoc he had created. At arm's length he tendered a pair
of moccasins for sale. It was the first Reservation Indian in native
dress, or rather undress, the girls had seen, and they truly expected to
be scalped.

It never occurs to an Indian to knock at a door, nor does the question
of propriety enter into his calculations when he has an object in view.

I told him to leave, and he went out. An hour later, however, when we
went to breakfast, he was squatted outside my door waiting for us to
appear. He had silver bracelets and rings beaten out of Mexican coins
and studded with native turquoise and desert rubies. We each bought
something. I bought because I liked his wares, and the other girls
purchased as a sort of thank-offering for mercies received.

The bracelets were set with the brilliant rubies found by the Indians in
the desert. It is said that ants excavating far beneath the surface
bring these semi-precious stones to the top. Others contend that they
are not found underneath the ground but are brought by the ants from
somewhere near the nest because their glitter attracts the ant. True or
false, the story results in every anthill being carefully searched.

Virginia's visit was drawing to a close, and White Mountain and I
decided to announce our engagement while she was still with us. We gave