"Mother did," Jim said. "She likes helping at the Home very much, but she got a little tired just before the young ladies sent for her to go to the seashore, and she came across one verse in the Bible which sounded so beautiful. It was, 'Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place and rest awhile, for there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat.'"
"I didn't know they had such hurrying times down in Galilee," Mr. Armstrong replied, lightly. He was in good spirits, and they drove a long distance that day, camping at night by a small stream, in which he caught some fine trout. As Jim curled up close to him under the army blanket, Mr. Armstrong felt a slight tremor run through the boy's frame.
"What is the matter?" he asked. "Are you afraid? We are still miles away from the Indians."
"It isn't the Indians," Jim replied, "but it's all so still! I don't hear horse-cars, nor the Elevated, nor people passing, nor nothing. Down at the Pier it was something like this, but there was always the sea; and at the pueblo there were the dogs; while here it seems as if something had stopped."
"'All the roaring looms of time,'" Mr. Armstrong replied, quoting from Tennyson, "have stopped for a little while for us, my boy, and that's the beauty of it. But the old machines will have us in their grip again very soon."
The next day Mr. Armstrong enjoyed a rabbit hunt. Jim, though he took part in the sport, could hardly be said to enjoy it. "It seems such a pity to kill the pretty things!" he said. But this did not keep him from making a hearty meal of broiled rabbit, or from hoping that they might find antelope before the trip was over. The loneliness which he had felt the night before came on again toward evening, and Jim was not sorry, on their third day out, to see that they were approaching a new frame house.
"An old half-breed guide used to have a tepee here," said Mr. Armstrong; "I shall engage his services for our trip. He is a good cook, a good hunter, faithful to his employers, and he knows every rock and clump of sage-brush in all the region. His only fault is that he will get drunk. He was with me when I found the silver ore, and I need him to guide me to the spot again."
As they came nearer, Mr. Armstrong seemed greatly surprised to see a large field of waving corn in front of the house, while some cows were being driven toward an out-building by a young Indian in checked shirt and brown overalls.
"What can have come over old Charley!" exclaimed Mr. Armstrong. "When I was here before, nothing would induce him to degrade himself by farm labor. Some boomer must have established himself here. It's illegal, for the land still belongs to the Indians."
They drove up to the front door, and were met by the same young man whom they had seen driving the cows, but the overalls were replaced by a faded pair of army trousers, and a paper collar had been hastily added to the checked shirt. He bade them enter, in good English, and the interior of the house was clean and inviting. The walls were papered with newspapers, a bright patchwork quilt was spread upon the bed, and a pleasant-faced girl was frying ham and eggs over the stove; while there was a shelf of books over the table. An Indian woman emerged from a shadowy corner and expressed a welcome by pantomime.