Suddenly loud barking sounded directly in front of him, and at no great distance. Tyope dropped on the ground and began to glide like a snake toward the place whence this last signal came. He crouched behind a flat rock and raised his eyes. It was in vain; nothing could be seen in the obscurity. He felt puzzled. Was this last signal the voice of another enemy who had hitherto remained silent, or was it Nacaytzusle who had changed his position? At all events it was safer to rise and go directly toward the spot, rather than approach it in a creeping posture. He walked deliberately onward, at the same time calling out in a low tone,—
"Nacaytzusle!"
Nothing moved.
He advanced a few steps and repeated,—
"Nacaytzusle! Hast thou seen anything?"
"No," said a hollow voice near by, and a human form arose as if from beneath the surface. The man stepped up to Tyope; and to the latter's unpeakable relief, he looked stouter and shorter than Nacaytzusle. The Indian was unknown to him, and Tyope said eagerly,—
"The badger must be hiding near where the fire is. We should cut off his trail to the north. Nacaytzusle went too far east; there"—he pointed toward the northeast—"is where he ought to stand."
Tyope spoke the Navajo language fluently.
"Thou art right," said the other; "go thither, and we will be closer together."
Tyope felt loath to follow this advice, for it would have brought him uncomfortably near his most dangerous foe; yet, under the circumstances and to avoid all suspicion he accepted the suggestion, and was about to turn in the direction indicated when the signals sounded again and simultaneously from every quarter. The strange Indian held him back, asking,—