"I wish I could talk Moqui," declared Bob; "and perhaps then I'd be able to make the old fellow understand. Perhaps, Frank, if you gave him a little note to Uncle Felix, he might promise to take it to him later on!" "Hello! that's a good idea, I declare," exclaimed Frank; "and I'll just do that same while I think of it." He immediately drew out a pad of paper, and a fountain pen which he often carried for business purposes, since there were times when he had to sign documents as a witness for his father. The old Moqui watched him closely. Evidently the spider-like handwriting was a deep mystery to him, and he must always feel a certain amount of respect for any white person who could communicate with another by means of the "talking paper." "There," said Frank, presently, "that ought to do the business, I reckon." "What did you say?" asked his comrade, who was busy at the fire just then, drawing some of the partly-burned wood aside, so that their supply might hold out in the morning. "Oh!" Frank went on, "I told him dad had his note, sent in that bottle. Then I mentioned the important fact that the mine paper he carried had increased in value thousands of dollars. And I wound up by telling him how much we wanted to see and talk with him. I signed my name, and yours, to the note." "And now to see whether the Moqui will promise to carry it to your great-uncle." Frank held the note up. "You will not tell us where we can find the little man without any hair on his head, Havasupai," he said. "But surely you will not say no when I ask you to carry this talking paper to him. It will please him very much. He will shake your hand, and many times thank you. How?" The cautious old Moqui seemed to be weighing chances in his suspicious mind. "Three to one he thinks we mean to spy on him, and find it all out that way," was Bob's quick opinion. "Just what was in my mind; I could read it in his sly old face. But all the same he's going to consent, Bob." The Kentucky boy wondered how Frank could tell this. He was even more surprised when the Indian stretched out a hand for the note, as he said solemnly: "Havasupai will carry the talking paper to the man who has no hair on his head. But no eye must see him do it. The white boys must say to Havasupai that they will not try to follow him." Frank looked at his chum, and nodded. "We'll just have to do it, I guess, to satisfy the suspicious old fraud, Bob," he remarked; and then raising his hand, while his chum did likewise Frank went on, addressing the Moqui, who watched every action with glittering black eyes: "We promise not to follow, Havasupai, and will hope that this talking paper may cause the man-who-hides to send you for us to take us to him. You understand all that I am saying, don't you?" The Moqui said something in his native language, which of course neither of them comprehended. But at the same time he reached out his hand and deliberately took the note intended for Uncle Felix.