“If you consider how high we are up on these mesas, you’ll not wonder at the springs we feel inside us—springs that make us want to jump up and down in very lightness,” said Joan, comically.
“Talking of springs—I notice there aren’t many to be seen along the trail,” remarked Mr. Vernon.
“And the lack of water accounts for the absence of birds and beasts, the guide just told me,” added the Captain.
“I’m glad we followed Lorenzo’s advice and filled our thermos bottles, as well as the water-bags, before we left the Mission,” said Mr. Gilroy.
That noon they all were glad for that water. After many miles had been reeled off by the horses’ hoofs on the trail, the Navajo guide, whose name was Lorenzo shortened to Lo, led the way down from the high mesa. Down, down, they rode, until, finally, the trail came to an arroyo bed, where, a short distance ahead, the scouts saw a typical village.
“This call Ganado trading-post. We mek good camp there for night,” said Lo, riding up to the adobe settlement.
“What a picturesque hamlet,” said Mr. Gilroy, gazing at the graceful natives—the women in their gay blankets, the children in Mother Nature’s garb.
“A hamlet without Hamlet,” giggled Joan.
“Hamlet without the ham, you mean,” retorted Julie, laughing. “I see only goats and sheep.”
It now became apparent why their Navajo guide had chosen the name of Lorenzo in place of a Navajo name—it was because of the esteem in which the Indian held the “Great White Man,” Lorenzo Hubbell, the well-known settler who has made history for Arizona during his life on the edge of the Desert. Rightly this man has been called “King of Northern Arizona,” but, unlike many monarchs, this one is beloved and reverenced by his people, the Navajos.