He would go stretching himself after sleep and having no fear of man,
for where Kabeyde lies up, who expects to find man also.' His hand came
under my chin as his custom was in giving orders. This was how I
understood it; this I did--"

The great cat bounded lightly to the ground, took two or three stretchy
steps, shaking the sleep from her flanks, yawned prodigiously, and
trotted off toward a thicket of wild plums into which she slipped like a
beam of yellow light into water. A moment later she reappeared on the
opposite side, bounded back and settled herself on the boulder. Around
the circle ran the short "Huh! Huh!" of Indian approval. The Navajo
shifted his blanket.

"A Dine could have done no more for a friend," he admitted.

"I see," said Oliver. "When the Dine saw you coming out of the mesquite
they would have been perfectly sure there was no man there. But anyway,
they might have taken a shot at you."

"And the twang of the bowstring and the thrashing about of the kill in
the thicket would have told Tse-tse exactly where _they_ were," said the
Navajo. "The Dine when they hunt man do not turn aside for a puma."

"The hardest part of it all," said Moke-icha, "was to keep from showing
I winded him. I heard the Dine move off, fox-calling to one another, and
at last I smelled Tse-tse working down the gully. He paid no attention
to me whatever; his eyes were fixed on the Dine who stood by the spring
with his back to him looking down on the turkey girl who was huddled
against the rocks with her hands tied behind her. The Dine looked down
with his arms folded, evil-smiling. She looked up and I saw her spit at