Shefford felt a desire to unburden himself. This man was strong,
persuasive, kindly. He drew Shefford.

"You're welcome in Kayenta," went on Withers. "Stay as long as you
like. I take no pay from a white man. If you want work I have it
aplenty."

"Thank you. That is good. I need to work. We'll talk of it later.
. . . But just yet I can't tell you why I came to Kayenta, what I want
to do, how long I shall stay. My thoughts put in words would seem
so like dreams. Maybe they are dreams. Perhaps I'm only chasing a
phantom--perhaps I'm only hunting the treasure at the foot of the
rainbow."

"Well, this is the country for rainbows," laughed Withers. "In
summer from June to August when it storms we have rainbows that'll
make you think you're in another world. The Navajos have rainbow
mountains, rainbow canyons, rainbow bridges of stone, rainbow trails.
It sure is rainbow country."

That deep and mystic chord in Shefford thrilled. Here it was again--
something tangible at the bottom of his dream.

Withers did not wait for Shefford to say any more, and almost as if
he read his visitor's mind he began to talk about the wild country
he called home.

He had lived at Kayenta for several years--hard and profitless years by
reason of marauding outlaws. He could not have lived there at all but
for the protection of the Indians. His father-in-law had been friendly