"How about water and grass?"

"We've had rain and snow. There's sure to be, water. Can't say about
grass, though the sheep and ponies from the north are always fat. . . .
But, say, Shefford, if you'll excuse me for advising you--don't go
north."

"Why?" asked Shefford, and it was certain that he thrilled.

"It's unknown country, terribly broken, as you can see from here, and
there are bad Indians biding in the canyon. I've never met a man who
had been over the pass between here and Kayenta. The trip's been made,
so there must be a trail. But it's a dangerous trip for any man, let
alone a tenderfoot. You're not even packing a gun."

"What's this place Kayenta?" asked Shefford.

"It's a spring. Kayenta means Bottomless Spring. There's a little
trading-post, the last and the wildest in northern Arizona. Withers,
the trader who keeps it, hauls his supplies in from Colorado and New
Mexico. He's never come down this way. I never saw him. Know nothing
of him except hearsay. Reckon he's a nervy and strong man to hold that
post. If you want to go there, better go by way of Keams Canyon, and
then around the foot of Black Mesa. It'll be a long ride--maybe two
hundred miles."

"How far straight north over the pass?"

"Can't say. Upward of seventy-five miles over rough trails, if there
are trails at all. . . . I've heard rumors of a fine tribe of Navajos