Diana nodded, then said: "Judge, this is Wee-tah, a friend of mine."
Enoch and the Indian shook hands gravely, and Diana said, "Can't you take supper with us, Wee-tah?"
"You stay, Wee-tah," Na-che put in abruptly. "Jonas and I want you to help us with a charm."
"Na-che says you know a heap about charms, Mr. Wee-tah!" exclaimed
Jonas.
Wee-tah grinned affably. "I stay," he said. "Only the whites have to hurry. Good water hole right there." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, then turned his pony and led the way a few hundred yards to a low outcropping of stones, the hollowed top of which held a few precious gallons of rain water.
"My Lordy!" exclaimed Jonas, as he and Enoch were hobbling their horses, "if I don't have some charms and hoo-doos to put over on those Baptist folks back home! Why, these Indians have got even a Georgia nigger beat for knowing the spirits."
"Jonas, you're an old fool, but I love you!" said Enoch.
Jonas chuckled, and hurried off to help Na-che with the supper. The stunted cat's claw and mesquite which grew here plentifully made possible a glorious fire that was most welcome, for the evening was cold. Enoch undertook to keep the big blaze going while Wee-tah prepared a small fire at a little distance for cooking purposes. After supper the two Indians and Jonas gathered round this while Enoch and Diana remained at what Jonas designated as the front room stove.
"What solitary trip was Wee-tah undertaking?" asked Enoch. "Or mustn't
I inquire?"
"On one of the buttes in the canyon country," replied Diana, "Wee-tah's grandfather, a great chief, was killed, years ago. Wee-tah is going up to that butte to pray for his little son who has never been born."