from the quarter the Indian was in toward me. Next, lying on my
stomach, I dug the large flowering plant up, and holding it by its
roots in front of myself, I crawled toward my quarry, as a snake in
the grass. Cautiously, stealthily, avoiding the slightest noise, and
always on the lookout for snakes and thorns, I crept slowly on,
making frequent halts to rest myself. Twice the Indian turned his
head and looked in my direction, but apparently he did not perceive
me. In this manner I came within easy gunshot distance. Now I took my
last rest, and with my knife dug a hole in the ground and replanted
my cactus shield firmly. Then I placed my rifle in position to fire
and drew a fine bead on the nape of his neck.

"Adios, Indian brave, prepare thy soul to meet the great Spirit in
the ever grassy meadows of the happy hunting grounds of eternity, for
the spider of thy fate is weaving the last thread in the web of thy
doom!" My finger was coaxing the trigger, when a feeling of intense
shame rose fiercely in my breast. Was I, then, like unto this Indian,
to take an enemy's life from ambush? Up I jumped with a challenging
shout, my gun leveled, ready for the fight. "Por Dios, amigo, amigo!"
cried the frightened Indian, holding up his hands. "No tengo dinero!"
(I have no money. Don't shoot!) he begged, speaking to me in Spanish.
Then I went to him and learned that he belonged to a wagon train,
traveling just ahead of us. He was a full-blood Navajo, who had been
made captive in a Mexican raid into the Navajo country. The Mexicans
used to capture many Navajo pappooses and bring them up as bond
servants or peons. This Indian told me that he had been following the
same band of antelopes as myself, and on passing a beautiful hill of
red ants, he yielded to temptation and thought he would have his
clothes examined and laundered by the ants. These little insects are
really very accommodating and work without remuneration. At the same