“That,” said Shonto, “speaks plainly of some Northern tribe. The Northern Indians were further advanced than the tribes of Southern and Central California. The stone abutments back there made me believe that a tribe of comparatively high intelligence once occupied this valley. This ruin confirms it. Few of the California tribes built large public houses, as this undoubtedly was, for their ceremonial dances and big dinners and other social activities. I have never told you--for I hadn’t the slightest idea that we’d find evidences of Indian life in the valley--but I’ve made quite a hobby of studying the aborigines of the Pacific Slope. So has Andy. We took it up together while nosing around in the mountains and on the desert, and we became intensely interested. I wish I could--” He came to a stop and gave her a look that was as near an admission of discomfiture as she had ever seen him reveal. “It’s getting late. No doubt there’s a spring close by, for this evidently is the site of the old village. Let’s camp for the night and cook our rabbit.” Close by the ruins of the community house they located the spring. It was in a ferny dell with mossy banks. Charmian stooped for water and saw a white object a little distance off, half hidden by the drooping fronds. Instinctively she knew what it was. She rose and walked around to it. It was the tibia bone of a human being, and, scattered here and there throughout the ferns, she discovered the remainder of the skeleton, including the skull. It gave her somewhat of a shock, but in the days to follow she was to grow accustomed to finding the bones and skulls of men in every conceivable place. This scatteration, the doctor held, bespoke the extinction of the tribe from the ravages of some epidemic--possibly smallpox--rather than a war of annihilation. Particularly so because no weapons were discovered near skeletons they found on open land. The broiled jackrabbit was appetizing, for their stomachs were turned against salt meat and jerky. Though the air was frosty, the evening in the protected valley was pleasant, the smoke of the incense cedar of their campfire sweet. Dr. Inman Shonto had been taciturn during the preparations for supper and the coming night. His face was grave, his eyes thoughtful. Finally Charmian asked: “Your case would sink, of course, wouldn’t it?” “I saw it sink out of sight,” he replied. “There were some surgical instruments in it that made it heavy. And the river must be deep where it fell, with that sheer wall above it. Besides, all of my medical supplies that were not in corked bottles would be ruined, provided we could drag it up. It’s a goner.” They made no further mention of the subject until the meal was over and Shonto, having heaped more wood on the coals, leaned back against the hole of a tree with pipe aglow.