The boy sergeants wandered about the town, made some purchases, and found great amusement in watching a bevy of Mojave Indian girls ornament their arms, necks, and faces with colored chalks in various fanciful designs, display themselves briefly to their admiring friends, and then plunge into and swim about a lagoon that backed up to the town from the river. Emerging with no trace left of their recent adornment, they would proceed to renew it in a different design, and take another swim. "Quite like watering-place belles with extensive wardrobes," remarked Frank. "And takes about as long to put on the paint as to put on a fashionable dress," said Henry, "but not so long to remove it." Another thing that interested the boys was a balsa or raft, made by the Mojaves of the cane-grass which grew in the river-bottoms to the height of fifteen feet. A large bundle bound at the ends with withes would sustain two men. The boys borrowed one of an Indian girl, who was sitting in the shade of a cottonwood prinking herself artistically with an original and intricate pigmentary pattern. Stepping on board, they paddled about the quiet lagoon for some time. Tiring at last of the sport, they separated, Frank saying that he was going to look over his shot-gun, and, perhaps, go for some quail; and Henry, that he meant to find Clary, and set some lines for catfish. The younger sergeant failing to find the soldier, selected a line, and procuring some bait, returned alone to the lagoon. On his way he met the Indian girl walking along the sidewalk, an object of admiration and envy to the men and women of her people. Her bronze flesh was ornamented with a lacelike tracery in many tints. "How exceedingly pretty!" said Henry, in Spanish, a language fairly well understood by the aborigines of the Southwest. "I, or my paint?" asked the girl. "The paint is well put on; but I think you look prettiest just after a swim." "Thank you, señor." "May I take the balsa again, Indita?" "Si, señor; and you may keep it; but return the paddle." "Thank you. I will leave the paddle on the shore." With this exchange of civilities Henry walked down to the pool. Selecting a lid of a packing-box, he shaped a rude paddle with his pocket-knife. An idea had occurred to him. He wondered if he could not float down the river to the racing-ground, and get a peep at Chiquita and Sancho as they came in victors; for he felt sure no ponies in Arizona could beat them. But the Lieutenant had told the escort not to go to the race. True. But what harm could there be if he kept out of sight; and there must be some bushes or hummocks on the river-bank where he could conceal himself. He determined to try it. If there was no shelter, he could float past, land below, abandon the balsa, and return to town by a circuitous route.