to write such a story but intended to try. His title was to be "The
Scornful Valley." Before he could come to the Canyon again, he died on
the operating table.

Preparations were made for the visit of General Diaz, who came about
Thanksgiving time. A great deal of pomp and glory surrounded his every
movement. He and White Mountain were alone for a moment on one of the
points overlooking the Canyon, and the General, looking intently into
the big gorge, said to the Chief: "When I was a small boy I read a book
about some people that stole some cattle and hid away in the Canyon. I
wonder if it could have been near here?" White Mountain was able to
point out a place in the distance that had been a crossing place for
cattle in the early days, which pleased the soldier greatly.

Hopi Joe and his Indian dancers gave an unusually fine exhibition of
their tribal dances for the visitors. The General expressed his
appreciation quite warmly to Joe after the dance ended, and asked Joe to
pose with him for a picture. He was recalling other boyhood reading he
had done, and his interest in the Indians was quite naïve. Joe took him
into the Hopi House and they spent an hour or so going over the
exhibition of Indian trophies there.

After dinner, the General retired to his private car to rest, but the
staff remained at the hotel and we danced until well after midnight. The
General's own band furnished the music. There were no women in the
visitor's party, but there was no lack of partners for the handsome,
charming officers. That few of them spoke English and none of us
understood Italian made no difference. Smiles and flirtatious glances
speak a universal language, and many a wife kept her wedding-ring out of
the lime-light.