The chief smiled slightly. “It is good. Friendship of man for man is our highest test of character. He who betrays a friend, even under torture, is unworthy. How many of you are there?” “Four,” said Sid. “One cowman guide, the white boy who is my friend, a Navaho youth and myself.” The chief looked relieved. Evidently he did not consider those three out there somewhere in the desert particularly formidable, nor that they could easily find Sid. “Go, my young brother! You are free of our village. You cannot leave it, for the entrance is well guarded. We shall wait until my old men have spoken.” Honanta turned and stalked back to his lodge, leaving Sid free to wander at will. The youth at first regretted that he had not told the whole truth about his party, that he had neglected to mention the most important member of it--the dog, Ruler, who would surely track him here just as soon as Big John and Scotty started back to look for him. They would arrive at Red Mesa to-morrow morning, and, guard or no guard, Ruler would lead them to that cave mouth! There was no doubt of his own rescue. But it might mean a fight, might mean anything once Big John arrived on the scene! And for Scotty, with his acute mineralogical knowledge, to get one sight of Red Mesa would mean the end of the Yellow Bear clan’s peaceful days. There were two things for him to do now, Sid decided; to free Hano, and to escape himself--after which he could think out what further steps to take. Left to himself, Sid strolled around the pond under the high walls of Red Mesa. He looked curiously at the small patches of maize, growing in clumps very much as the Hopi plant them; at the borders of beans and peppers; at squash plants that ran riot up the stone walls, growing out of small crevices of soil in the rock. Every inch of soil was being cultivated. As it was the dry season, great woolly clouds of lavender and rose, empty of rain, were flying across high over the red ramparts in the blue sky. A few squaws were irrigating the higher plants, carrying up large jugs of water from the pond. A little further on he came to a deep gorge, cleft in the high rock, and Sid stopped, his heart beating swiftly. Here was the mine described on that Red Mesa plaque! It ran like a fissure through the granite, a wide seam of black lava trap, and with it was a vein of rich, dark ore. Pure copper smelted out by the heat of the lava glinted a dull black throughout the vein, and a still intenser black, gleaming with points of white, told of native silver nuggets mixed with the copper. It was a big lode. It swept downward, passed under the dirt path under Cid’s feet and descended into the dim blue depths of the tank. Here was Scotty’s mine, all right!