CHAPTER XII
THE MESA VILLAGE
"I tell you one thing," said Jim, "I'm mighty glad to get out of the country of the Apaches. Our one experience with those beggars will last me the rest of my natural life."
"We might run into some roving bands," I said. "I don't believe that they have any regular boundaries to their country."
"They don't get beyond their own section, unless they are at war with some other tribes. They ought to be satisfied with all those mountains and plains back of us to hunt over."
"Say boys, what is that ahead of us on that mesa?" asked Tom. "It looks like some houses to me."
"Houses!" I exclaimed, skeptically, "what would anybody do with houses up on a place like that and who would live in them?"
"It's reasonable enough," said Jim, "that the Indians should build on a high place like that. It's a natural fort and they would be safe from the attacks of their enemies. In a flat country like this where there are no woods or other defense those mesas are just the thing."
"I suppose that we had better keep to the north," I said, "because we don't want to mix it with any Indians. I don't care for their society, no matter how kind and gentle they are and perhaps it isn't their day at home."
"We can't always be dodging around," replied Jim, "for we will never reach the Colorado River. It's right on our line of march and we might just as well take in all the sights."