high counter on the other. Behind this counter Withers stood to wait
upon the buying Indians. They sold blankets and skins and bags of
wool, and in exchange took silver money. Then they lingered and with
slow, staid reluctance bought one thing and then another--flour, sugar,
canned goods, coffee, tobacco, ammunition. The counter was never
without two or three Indians leaning on their dark, silver-braceleted
arms. But as they were slow to sell and buy and go, so were others
slow to come in. Their voices were soft and low and it seemed to
Shefford they were whispering. He liked to hear them and to look at
the banded heads, the long, twisted rolls of black hair tied with
white cords, the still dark faces and watchful eyes, the silver ear-
rings, the slender, shapely brown hands, the lean and sinewy shapes,
the corduroys with a belt and gun, and the small, close-fitting
buckskin moccasins buttoned with coins. These Indians all appeared
young, and under the quiet, slow demeanor there was fierce blood and
fire.

By and by two women came in, evidently squaw and daughter. The former
was a huge, stout Indian with a face that was certainly pleasant if
not jolly.

She had the corners of a blanket tied under her chin, and in the folds
behind on her broad back was a naked Indian baby, round and black of
head, brown-skinned, with eyes as bright as beads. When the youngster
caught sight of Shefford he made a startled dive into the sack of the
blanket. Manifestly, however, curiosity got the better of fear, for
presently Shefford caught a pair of wondering dark eyes peeping at him.

"They're good spenders, but slow," said Withers. "The Navajos are
careful and cautious. That's why they're rich. This squaw, Yan As