from over the sea. He was reminded that when the call came for
volunteers many thousands of Arizona Indians left their desert home and
went across the sea to fight for a government that had never recognized
them as worthy to be its citizens.

The General's face lighted up as he accepted the gift, and he replied
that he would carry the rug with him and lay it before his own
hearthstone, and that he would tell his children its story so that after
he had gone on they would cherish it as he had and never part with it.
One likes to think that perhaps during his last days on earth his eyes
fell on this bright rug, reminding him that in faraway Arizona his
friends were thinking of him and hoping for his recovery.

A wildcat presented by an admirer was voted too energetic a gift to
struggle with, so it was left in the bear cage on the Rim. Somebody
turned it out and it committed suicide by leaping into the Canyon.

A raw cold wind, such as can blow only at the Canyon, swept around the
train as it carried Marshal Foch away. That wind brought tragedy and
sorrow to us there at El Tovar, for, exposed to its cold blast, Mr.
Brant, the hotel manager, contracted pneumonia. Travelers from all parts
of the world knew and loved this genial and kindly gentleman. He had
welcomed guests to El Tovar from the day its portals were first opened
to tourists. Marshal Foch was the last guest he welcomed or waved to in
farewell, for when the next day dawned he was fighting for life and in a
few days he was gone.

He had loved the Canyon with almost a fanatic's devotion, and although
Captain Hance had not been buried on its Rim as had been his deep
desire, Mr. Brant's grave was located not far from the El Tovar,