The tin cans served as dishes, and their fingers were knives and forks. Baldy carried on his saddle a simple camping outfit, one item of which was a coffee pot, with a supply of the ground berry, and, making a little fire, he soon had some prepared. They all felt better after that.
Directly after noon the Indians went through some of their ceremonies. They circled about the sandy place, to the accompaniment of wild and weird yells, cavorting and dancing, weaving in and out and shaking all manner of noisemaking contrivances. A fire was built in the center of the circle, and there appeared to be some sort of sacrifice going on at a rude stone altar.
Russ, with his camera concealed in a hut, got a fine series of moving pictures of all that went on. Then came more dancing and wild howling, all meaningless to the prisoners, but doubtless of moment to the Indians.
"Oh, that one is doing a regular hesitation waltz!" cried Alice, pointing to a tall, lank brave.
"How can you say such things—at a time like this?" Ruth demanded.
"Why shouldn't I? Besides I've got an idea for a new step in the hesitation from him. I'm going to practice as soon as I get back."
All that afternoon the ceremonies kept up. At one time it seemed as though the Indians would go wild, so frenzied did they become, and Baldy thought it would be a good chance to see if he could not get past the guards with his friends.
But when he reached the trail that led off the mesa he found it closely guarded, and he was ordered back.
"No use," he said on his return. "We'll have to wait until night."
But at night he succeeded no better, for though the ceremonies were kept up by the light of many camp fires, the line of Indians on guard was not broken, and it was impossible to get through it.