n the evening of the day that had introduced Todd Chalmers to the modern cliff-dwellers of the Valley of Peace, he and they gathered about a cheerful fire burning on the open hearth of the castle, and the Professor gave him a history of their coming to that place as follows:
"It is now twelve years since I filled the chair of Biblical Literature and American Ethnology in Calvert College. About that time I was confronted by certain problems that could only be solved by a visit to the pueblos of New Mexico and Arizona, in which, as thee doubtless knows, the manner of life remains to-day practically unchanged from what it was at the time of their discovery by the Spaniards. Through the liberality of thy father were the means for making such a visit furnished.
"Apprehending no danger, I brought with me my wife and my only son Reuben, a well-grown lad of eighteen. We travelled from Albuquerque in a light wagon drawn by two stout mules, and provided with all necessaries for our comfort. Everything went well with us until after we left Zuñi for the Moqui towns of northeastern Arizona, 'the seven cities of Cibola,' as they were named by the Spaniards. Toward them we travelled in company with two Mexican traders who, though they had never visited the Moqui towns, thought they knew the way.
"The Mexicans proved unreliable guides, however, and by the time we crossed the Flax River had managed to lead us from the trail. Still, we believed ourselves to be moving in the right direction, and pushed on, though the country became more and more desolate with every mile.
"Toward evening of the day on which we crossed the river our wagon was halted by the breaking of a piece of harness, and the Mexicans, keeping on, were quickly lost to view behind a rise of ground. I soon had the harness mended, and Reuben, who was mounted on a saddle-horse, rode ahead to catch sight of our companions before they should gain too great a distance.
"INDIANS ON THE WAR-PATH!" HE SHOUTED.
"I followed with all speed, but had not passed the rise when the lad came dashing madly back, shouting: 'Indians! Indians on the war-path!' In another minute he had told his story. A band of Apaches who had broken from their reservation had killed the Mexicans, and were busily engaged in examining their bales of goods. They were so surprised by Reuben's approach that they could only let fly a few arrows as he turned and fled. Being on foot, they pursued him but a short distance; but one of their arrows had struck him and passed through his body, inflicting a most dangerous wound.
"I got him into the wagon, and then, not knowing what better to do, turned it at right angles to the course we had been pursuing, with the idea of making a circuit around the Indians. After that I hoped to regain our original direction, for I knew that in reaching the Moqui towns lay our only hope of safety.
"For three days we wandered over the burning sands and amid the magic paintings of the desert, while our poor lad suffered agonies from his wound. By nightfall of the third day, our horse having already given out and been abandoned, the mules were too weak to travel another step, and I turned them loose to die. One staggered but a few yards before he fell, while the other wandered feebly out of sight.