Presently, as we know, Mr. Mayberry was communicating the news of Rob's astonishing rescue to Mr. Harkness. He also told him something that he had not confided to Rob, and that was that he intended to hold the soldiers in reserve and go by himself to the valley in which the snake dance was to be held, and, as he expressed it, "reason with the Moquis."
Now, there is little doubt that, had Black Cloud been in supreme control of the tribe at that time, Mr. Mayberry, with his knowledge of the red men, and the many little kindnesses he had done them, might have been able to "reason with them." But, as has been said, conditions in the tribe were not normal. The unscrupulous Diamond Snake, who was as ambitious as he was senseless, had determined on giving the snake dance, and equally determined that the logic of the little circle who still kept their heads and counseled saner measures should not prevail. Unfortunately, the wisest counsel is not invariably the most acceptable, and so it proved in the case of the rival chiefs. Black Cloud was even spoken of as "timid" by some of the young bucks. This, however, was behind his back, as none dared to fling such a taunt in the face of the veteran.
In counsel, Black Cloud, supported by three or four of the elder Indians, had pleaded the many years of comfort Mr. Mayberry had provided for them. If they did nothing to thwart his wishes, he reasoned, the good times would continue. If they deliberately rebelled, however, no one knew what would happen.
This sage advice had been jeered down by Diamond Snake's followers. The ancient lore of the tribe had been quoted, the spirits of their ancestors invoked, and Black Cloud denounced as a traitor to the traditions of the Moquis. A similar situation has often prevailed in the counsels of the white men, who vaunt themselves so much the red man's superiors. It was simply the case of one leader bowing to the will of the populace, the other sternly stemming the tide, bidding defiance to the element which he knows stands for what is wrong and foolish.
So it had come about that a band of young braves engaged in hunting had stumbled across Mr. Mayberry's hiding place, and, having discovered it, had decided that it was their duty to trail its occupant, whom they not unnaturally, perhaps, regarded as their enemy.
No such thoughts were in Jeffries Mayberry's mind, however, as he rode slowly out of Red Flat in the early twilight. On the contrary, a smile played about his usually rather stern features, and his whole countenance was relaxed in an expression which, to any one viewing him, would have said as plain as print that Jeffries Mayberry was in a pleasant mood.
In fact, the crisis that he had feared seemed to the Indian agent's mind to have passed the crucial point. The cavalry from Fort Miles would be at Sentinel Peak that evening. From there it was not a long ride to the valley in which the dance was to be held. By midnight, he felt certain, things would be in train for the peaceful return of the Moquis to their reservation. Jeffries Mayberry was, as our readers have doubtless decided by this time, a man to whom the idea of bloodshed or violence was abhorrent, but also a man who looked upon duty unflinchingly. He regarded the Moquis more as children to be looked after, and chided, and reasoned with, than as bloodthirsty and cruel savages, in whom a thin veneer of civilization only skinned the savagery festering below. Men had often told Jeffries Mayberry that his view of the Indian character was wrong, but he had always defended his views. They were shortly destined to be put to the severest test a man's theories ever were called upon to bear.
The Indian agent had ridden easily down the trail some two miles or so in the direction of Sentinel Mountain, when Ranger suddenly swerved so violently from the trail as almost to unseat him.
"Steady, boy, steady!" soothed the agent, patting the alarmed animal's neck. "What is it?"
Ranger snorted violently and then, trembling in every limb, came to a dead stop.