"There must be a hundred of them anyway," said Tom.
"About the number that had us corraled back in those mountains," I said.
This was the first time that we had seen a family party of Indians and it was an interesting sight.
"It is time we made our own camp," said Jim.
So we backed slowly from the edge of the mesa, keeping under shelter of the brush, until we were far enough away not to be seen, then we stood up and made our way to the deserted village.
"I'm not going to sleep in that house," I declared, "and have a tarantula crawl out and grab me."
"Gee, but you are particular," said Jim, "anyway we can cook our food in one of these houses, so that the Indians down there won't see the smoke."
So we prepared a meal inside of a house for the first time since we had left the captain's cabin on the plateau. If anyone had told us that we were going to have supper in a house on top of a mesa in New Mexico we would have thought they were crazy. But strange things happen in a strange country.
After supper we prepared to turn in or turn out rather, because we were not going to sleep in the house.
"Let's go over to the other side first," said Jim, "and have a look at the Indian camp."