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Show CHAPTER XVI. WILP LIFE IN ARIZONA. IT is bright noon in the gorge of Cailon Benito. The red cliffs glow in the hot sunshine, and the dark pool below, the only body of water in an area of hundreds of miles, is now simmering warm. At midnight it will be cold as ice- water. The Navajo boys are plunging and splashing in the tepid bath, their handsome dark bodies shining through the clear fluid like bronze statues vivants. Around each boy's waist is the tight " geestring," from which a single strip of cloth runs between the limbs from front to back these two ar-ticles never being removed from the person in the pres-ence of another. Down the steep trail from the south comes a band to the " count and distribution," which is expected in a few days. The speckled ponies cau-tiously tread the perilous way, bearing the pappooses and household goods; the men stalk in front, carrying their weapons and articles for barter; behind come the squaws, less heavily laden than is usual among the In-dians, and consequently far more shapely and graceful. An occasional yelp indicates that some hapless cur, of the little black, fiery- eyed and fierce species kept by the Navajoes. has got under the sharp hoof of a broncho; then a loud chorus of not unmusical cries shows that the band have recognized their friends coming from an opposite direction, and soon they unite in the quadrangle inclosed by the Agency buildings. ( 249) COMING TO THE " COUNT." |