try, but vainly, to utter in a nightmare. This, though a tribute to
Pio's impressive aspect, and a gratifying omen of his success in the
role of medicine man, was also a warning of danger. He dived again into
the brush and devoted strenuous hours to threading his way through
thickets of chaparral until he emerged on the trail that led northeast
into the heart of the mountains. Big Flower was happily intact, and the
nightcap also except for a missing string, but the outer layer of the
other garments had paid toll to many an affectionate scrub-oak and
manzanita, and the stockings that had stood the brunt were practically
footless. Pio surveyed the damage ruefully, and rebuked himself for not
having preserved his new property by wearing his own clothes outside. He
would make the change now, and as it was getting hot he decided to wear
only one set of the undergarments (the damaged ones) under his own
clothes, and to carry the others. When the change was made, he hurried
on. He had made one or two more attempts to make Big Flower close, but
had not succeeded, so he now marched along in a businesslike way under
the great parasol, apparently an Indian gentleman more than usually
careful of his complexion, taking a brisk walk.

One thing, however, he had to attend to, the question of food, for he
was getting very hungry. He was now on a steep trail that led up to the
valley now known as the Santa Mar'a, and there, he knew, was another
rancher'a, or village. Here, too, he might be known, but he must take
the chance: he must have food, and would boldly go and ask for it. As he
pushed his way through the trees he came unexpectedly upon three fat
squaws who were sitting beside the creek, pounding acorns and grass
seeds into meal. Just as he saw them, they saw him, umbrella, nightcap,
slippers, and all. There was one shriek, or rather, a trio of shrieks
that sounded like one, and the women rushed like deer (albeit very fat
deer) down the creek, and Pio heard them gabbling at top voice to what