“Well, folks all, looks like a pleasant time was enjoyed by all and one!” The big Arizonan’s spirits would permit of no more concrete thanksgiving for a crisis passed. It was his way to find laughter the only vehicle for suppressed emotions and whimsicalities the best conveyance for thoughts which might sound “high-falutin’.” The three stood mute, their eyes telling one another things which might have come flattened and blunted in speech. “See me welcome an old visitor just before the curtain went up on the first act?” Bim turned to Grant, his eyes shining excitement. “Who d’you think? Ole Doc Stooder!” Grant gasped in surprise. His pal’s grin faded as he added seriously: “Just about the end of his string, too. The rain sure saved him--couldn’t have lasted another hour--one chance in a thousand brought him here where they’s folks to look out for him--a friend, even, to coddle him back to health.” “No, not one chance in a thousand,” Benicia caught him up with deep seriousness in her voice. “It is the desert way--to play with destiny, I mean, and seem to cause miracles.--But let me go to him if he needs attention.” She started forward, but Bim put out a staying hand. “I wouldn’t, ma’am. The Doc’s not a purty sight right now. His body’s just drinkin’ in all the water that landed on him an’ he’s sorta in a daze--doesn’t say much of anything that makes sense. A little food which I’m goin’ to brew if I can find some dry sticks of wood anywhere’s round--” Simple charity dictated that Bim say no word of conjecture as to what brought Stooder to the desert. He guessed full well. El Doctor Coyote Belly seemed to be materialized from the rocks so noiselessly had he approached the group. The old man’s face was ashen; unguessable terrors he had fought with and hardly conquered since last the three had seen him standing in the yellow storm glare before the cave of Elder Brother. “If my daughter will come now to the house of Iitoi,” he said to the girl in his native tongue, “she may take what Iitoi gives. The god has expressed his displeasure by the storm--but he will give.” Benicia turned and put a wordless question to Grant. They started together to climb the precipitous rock ladder up the side of the gorge wall, El Doctor leading. Thirty minutes’ exhaustive effort brought them to the approach of a high-roofed cavern into which the westering sun laid a broad carpet of light. There in the shale before the cave mouth were El Doctor’s pitiful presents to the god--the arrow and prayer stick wedged upright, the beads and tobacco in a small basket. The whole ground about was littered with the shards of sacrificial pottery and scraps of basketry.