CHAPTER XIII
TWO HONORS
The houses were not separate, but the whole village was like one big rambling house of many rooms. We cautiously entered one of the houses.
As soon as our eyes became accustomed to the dim light we saw that it had been deserted for a long time. There were no marks of recent habitation.
On the hard, worn floor were shards of pottery of red and grey clay that had been baked according to the method of the tribe. In the blackened fireplace was a heap of rags.
"I bet the Apaches have cleared this town out," said Jim, reaffirming my previous statement.
"There's no doubt of it," I replied. "It's too near their territory anyway. It makes me feel sorry for these people. They must have been comfortable here and they were no doubt superior to the other Indian tribes because they have built themselves houses instead of living in tepees."
"Yes," remarked Jim, "and instead of living on wild meat they raised grain. You can see where they have crushed it in this round stone, that's hollowed out."
We were standing near the fireplace as Jim was speaking, when I saw the rubbish moving slightly, and then a great hairy spider rushed out at us.
"Look out, Jim," I cried, in alarm. "There's a big spider coming for you."