“Then there’s a bunch of real tourists,” continued Billie; “father, mother and two half-grown children, people of means, they must be, for they look like it; and they’ve got three guides along with ’em too, so’s not to get lost on the desert, like some sillies have a habit of doing. Chances are these Zunis will get considerable graft from that free-and-easy crowd.” “Among the balance of the strangers in town there’s one man I’ve been watching, and he somehow gives me a bad feeling,” remarked Adrian. “P’raps, now, I might pick him out, and then not half try,” added Donald; “just because I felt the same way about him. See here, Ad, is he that tall, domineering man, with the inky-black mustache, who looks about like the frisky gambler you see in the moving pictures of this Western country?” “Hit it the first guess, Donald; but I took the trouble to ask a few questions about him from that smart looking young brave you saw me talking with a bit ago; and it seems that his name is Mark Braddon; and he’s some sort of showman.” “Oh! you mean a circus proprietor, out here in the Wild and Woolly West to pick up novel attractions for his outfit in the East, is that it?” demanded Donald, quickly. “That’s what he claims; and the youngster told me Braddon was trying to induce the chief to take a big party of braves, squaws and papooses, and go with him to exhibit this same rattlesnake dance in his circus. Says it would be the biggest card ever put before the public, and insure him crowded houses all through the winter in Chicago.” Donald looked grave. “I don’t like his ways, that’s all I can say,” he remarked, still watching the important looking man in question, who was not far away at the time, showing the family of tourists the largest cliff dwelling, with an air of proprietorship; as though he already felt that he had acquired an interest in the whole village by reason of the fact that he was daily and hourly increasing his offer of big pay, until the chief _must_ give in, and accept a contract. “And from what you told me about these people,” Adrian went on to say, gravely, “it seems to me they never could give that strange dance day after day, and have it still hold its solemn, religious character.” “Never!” declared Donald, who knew so much about these Indians of the rock dwellings; “it can be danced only once a year, at a most particular season. Everything has to be just so, the moon at a certain age, and all sorts of other conditions are to be suitable, or it loses its significance. But then money is a strong factor nowadays, and if that tempter only made his offer _big_ enough, he might get the old chief to consent.” “That would be bad enough in itself,” remarked Adrian; “but between you and me, Donald, I’ve got a big suspicion that this circus man is something of a fake.”