Then his thoughts reverted to Fay Larkin. Could this girl be known to
the Mormons? It was possible. Fay Larkin was an unusual name. Deep
into Shefford's heart had sunk the story Venters had told. Shefford
found that he had unconsciously created a like romance--he had been
loving a wild and strange and lonely girl, like beautiful Bess Venters.
It was a shock to learn the truth, but, as it had been only a dream,
it could hardly be vital.

Shefford retraced his steps toward the post. Halfway back he espied a
tall, dark figure moving toward him, and presently the shape and the
step seemed familiar. Then he recognized Nas Ta Bega. Soon they were
face to face. Shefford felt that the Indian had been trailing him over
the sand, and that this was to be a significant meeting. Remembering
Withers's revelation about the Navajo, Shefford scarcely knew how to
approach him now. There was no difference to be made out in Nas Ta
Bega's dark face and inscrutable eyes, yet there was a difference to
be felt in his presence. But the Indian did not speak, and turned to
walk by Shefford's side. Shefford could not long be silent.

"Nas Ta Bega, were you looking for me?" he asked.

"You had no gun," replied the Indian.

But for his very low voice, his slow speaking of the words, Shefford
would have thought him a white man. For Shefford there was indeed an
instinct in this meeting, and he turned to face the Navajo.

"Withers told me you had been educated, that you came back to the
desert, that you never showed your training. . . . Nas Ta Bega, did