"She's dead, stone dead," said Jim.
It was true. On a closer view we saw that she sat there, staring with her sightless eyes, seeming to threaten even in death. I could not help but feel that she might spring up at any moment.
"Do you think that we ought to bury her?" asked Tom.
"No, no," Jim shook his head. "The Indians don't bury their dead, and in this dry air she will be kept like a mummy. Come on, it's time we were moving."
We took one more observation and found that the Indians were well on their way to the southeast and could not see us as we came down the trail.
"I'm glad this wind doesn't come from the other way," I said. "It would blow us off."
"You are a bright one," remarked Tom. "If the wind came from the other side, wouldn't the mesa protect us? It could not blow through it, that's sure."
"You just want to argue," I said. "I'm not going to pay any attention to you."
"Wouldn't it be funny if this wind should flatten us into the rock? It almost blows hard enough to. Wouldn't it puzzle these scientific fellars if they should find a living representation of Tommy in the wall of the mesa? They would sure take him for something prehistoric."
"They would probably think you were an aboriginal monkey," replied Tom bitterly.