“Well,” he gulped, “it’s just that I am not an Indian....”
“But white men have been the friends of dogs since time began. You can learn to remember how a cave man felt when he and his dog slept back to back to protect themselves against the howling things outside in the night. You want to be among dogs, Sandy? Very well, I will call them here.”
She closed her black eyes and sat swaying slowly from side to side, making an almost inaudible whining, snuffling noise through her nose.
A dog barked questioningly in the distance. Another answered, nearer. Within minutes, three scrawny mutts were scratching at the screen door of the cottage.
“You must remember that dogs are always hungry,” Mrs. Gonzales said as she let the animals in and went to the kitchen to find scraps for them, “so you must think of food at all times. You must remember that they are loyal, even though their master beats them, so you must not let your hatred or distrust of Cavanaugh into your mind when you approach his camp. You must be sleepy ... oh so sleepy ... so that you do not wake them from their dreams of chasing rabbits, or bigger game.
“Also,” she said thoughtfully, “it would be wise to remove all your clothing except the dog skin before you approach. There will not be so much man smell to overcome. Now play with these dogs for a time to get their scent on you. Then Kitty will drive you as near the camp as she dares. And may the blessings of the good Jesus and Mary, and the water and wind people, ride with you.”
Kitty was at the wheel as the jeep skirted the town and headed up a steep trail that had been chopped through the mesquite for the benefit of tourists who liked to snap their everlasting cameras from the top of the Rock. It was much too late for tourists to be out, however, so they had the road to themselves. This was a good thing, since they dared not use the car lights and had to depend on what little illumination was provided by a half-moon.
Sandy sat fingering Maisie’s hide nervously and holding the “ear” on his lap to protect it from bumps. From time to time, as they twisted and turned, he got glimpses of Cavanaugh’s beam far above. It twinkled without interruption and was hard to distinguish among the stars.
“Pepper must be playing music,” he said softly at last. “Ralph says the beam fades up and down when a two-way conversation is going on. We’re still in time.”
“Are you sure you ought to be doing this?” Kitty asked unhappily. “John wouldn’t have let you go if he had known about it, I’m certain.”