"See that cliff yonder?" Jerry pointed to a steep ascent that rose above the low water across the river. Halfway up could be seen a crumbling ruin from which rose a trail of smoke. "There's a cliff dwellin', Windy. Looks like old Tommy's home too."
"Tommy's the only Mojave there who can talk any English," explained Dunk as they splashed through the river. "We'll leave the horses down here an' hike up."
Leaving the ponies to graze along the river bank the boys began the ascent of a well-worn path. It had been hollowed out in places and made easier for visitors, so that they had no difficulty in reaching the cliff dwellings on the ledge. As they did so, Fred, who had followed Carlito closely, saw two wrinkled and blanket-clad Indians with a couple of fat squaws, seated over a small fire. One of the chiefs was hideously tattooed on the forehead and chin, and the women were heavily ornamented with strings of many-colored beads and gaudy pendants. Two of them wore large brass earrings. All had a miscellaneous supply of brass buttons distributed over their blankets.
"Hello, Tommy!" called Jerry cheerfully as he gained the ledge. "Better bring over some more stuff! We've got some new people at the post. Sell some baskets easy."
The eldest Mojave shook his head without looking up. "No tadavia," he returned. "No got. Nex' week, mebbe. All gone."
"You fellows show Windy over the place," said Carl. "I'm going to talk to Tommy." Squatting down beside the other Indians, he broke into a flood of Mexican.
"Come on, Windy," laughed Dunk. "Carl ain't got no use for us now."
At first Fred was somewhat disappointed in the cliff dwellings, or what was left of them. Only part of the walls were standing in many cases, the roofs having caved in, the remainder of the buildings being surrounded by fallen rocks and mortar.
"I suppose these are a good many hundred years old," he said as he stepped into one of the better preserved caves which the Indians had taken possession of. There was a rounded hole in the center of the stone floor where the inhabitants had ground their corn, and this was still in use by Tommy and his friends. All the arrow heads and broken pottery had been taken away by previous visitors, but the walls were inscribed with strange characters, the sign language of the vanished race. Queer animals of all sorts drawn in crude fashion, mingled with figures of dogs, snakes and mysterious marks of their own, were among the rough drawings.
Very little light came in through the narrow door and single small window, and when Fred emerged and stood at the edge of the terrace the bright sunshine made him blink his eyes, and the fresh beauties of nature were a strange contrast to the dark, dusty interior of the cliff house. They were now far above the river, which could be heard below. Opposite was a low hill or two and beyond the hills the blistering yellow and red of the desert. They were facing the garrison, which was hidden by the hills. Behind them lay the mountains, and to the west a far-off snowy peak was just visible around the corner of the ledge.