“Those mountain peaks prove that this is no mirage, Verny, it is the real thing! However, it doesn’t seem natural, but heavenly,” added Amy in a whisper.
“That’s the beginning of the Painted Desert,” said the man at the wheel, then he started the automobile again.
“Why!” gasped Joan, “that isn’t a desert, at all!”
“It looks more like Egypt to me,” said Mrs. Vernon.
“Visitors do say that it reminds them more of the Holy Land than any place in the world,” explained the driver.
“It’s perfectly marvelous,” breathed Betty, who had been silent heretofore.
After several hours of further driving through this unusual country, the car came to a stop at St. Michael’s Mission. Mr. Walters had given Mrs. Vernon a splendid letter of introduction to the father in charge of the Mission, and the father, being a staunch friend of the manager’s, welcomed the guests warmly.
After the drivers had been refreshed with lunch they bid the scouts good-day and started on their homeward trip. The packs had been left at the shed of the Mission House, and then the girls, with their Captain, were shown about the quaint little town. What surprised them most was the cleanliness and perfect manners of the natives they met.
The three riders with their string of horses rode in at St. Michael’s long after sundown, without having had any mishaps or delays. Tally was sent to a low shed with the animals, and the two dusty men were escorted to a small room where they might brush off and clean up. Water was scarce in this section of the land; therefore the dry and dusty riders were warned about wasting a drop of it.
When all were convened again in the Mission’s front room, the father said he wished them to visit the Navajo School, where the boys and girls were educated. This, he explained, would interest them all, as the building would compete with any public school in the East, and the deportment of the pupils caused visiting teachers to marvel.