A PILGRIM ON THE GILA 211 ILLUSTRATIONS SPECIMEN JONES _Frontispiece_ "BOASTING IN INDIAN FASHION" _Facing page_ 6 "HIS HORSE DREW CLOSE, SHOVING THE HORSE OF THE MEDICINE-MAN" " 14 "THE HEAD LAY IN THE WATER" " 34 AN APACHE " 38 CUMNOR'S AWAKENING " 52 THE MEXICAN FREIGHT-WAGON " 58 "'AIN'T Y'U GOT SOMETHING TO SELL?'" " 90 THE CHARGE " 102 "HE HESITATED TO KILL THE WOMAN" " 112 THE SHOT-GUN MESSENGER " 122 "'I'D LIKE TO HAVE IT OVER'" " 128 "HIS PLAN WAS TO WALK AND KEEP QUIET" " 148 "'DON'T NOBODY HURT ANYBODY,' SAID SPECIMEN JONES" " 156 "'YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK THIS WAY. YOU'RE ALONE'" " 204 "EACH BLACK-HAIRED DESERT FIGURE" " 238 RED MEN AND WHITE LITTLE BIG HORN MEDICINE Something new was happening among the Crow Indians. A young pretender had appeared in the tribe. What this might lead to was unknown alike to white man and to red; but the old Crow chiefs discussed it in their councils, and the soldiers at Fort Custer, and the civilians at the agency twelve miles up the river, and all the white settlers in the valley discussed it also. Lieutenants Stirling and Haines, of the First Cavalry, were speculating upon it as they rode one afternoon. "Can't tell about Indians," said Stirling. "But I think the Crows are too reasonable to go on the war-path." "Reasonable!" said Haines. He was young, and new to Indians. "Just so. Until you come to his superstitions, the Indian can reason as straight as you or I. He's perfectly logical." "Logical!" echoed Haines again. He held the regulation Eastern view that the Indian knows nothing but the three blind appetites. "You'd know better," remarked Stirling, "if you'd been fighting 'em for fifteen years. They're as shrewd as AEsop's fables." Just then two Indians appeared round a bluff--one old and shabby, the other young and very gaudy--riding side by side. "That's Cheschapah," said Stirling. "That's the agitator in all his feathers. His father, you see, dresses more conservatively." The feathered dandy now did a singular thing. He galloped towards the two officers almost as if to bear them down, and, steering much too close, flashed by yelling, amid a clatter of gravel. "Nice manners," commented Haines. "Seems to have a chip on his shoulder." But Stirling looked thoughtful. "Yes," he muttered, "he has a chip."