In the shade of the wickiup on the edge of the little plateau sat Wet Dog, gazing absently over the green valley which lay stretched at his feet. Not at all a good place for a camp, thought the patient squaws who had built it, for it was only a little, gravelly shelf on the parched, gray mountain which allowed the sun to beat full upon it while keeping off what breezes there were. Then the water must be carried all the way from the river, a hundred yards off horizontally and as many feet below; but what did Wet Dog care for that? He did not have to "pack" it—and, besides, there wasn't much to bring, for they used it only to boil things in- -so he had decreed that there the camp should be, and Wet Dog's word was law. He had reasons of his own-liked the view, he said-so the squaws had made many weary journeys up the steep incline, bearing from the flat below armfuls of arrow-weed, which they wove into hurdles, securing them, edge to edge, on three sides of a square. Their lord had been impatient during this process, for the sun was hot, and he had hurried them with grunts, together with sundry pokes. When the walls were up he squatted contentedly in their shadow, and, leaving his womankind to put on the roof more at their leisure, gave himself up to a pleasant revery.

A happy retrospect it was, for things had prospered with Wet Dog. In his youth he had been sent to an Indian school under the control of the Federal Government, and situated in the East, far away from all degrading aboriginal influences. This is why Wet Dog ran away from it, but he learned much while there, learned to speak English and to read a little, together with many other things appertaining to the lore of the white man, but which are not included in the curriculum of that excellent governmental institution. On his return to the reservation, he had sold skins and baskets to the wives of the officers quartered there, and

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thereby obtained silver coins. This money he had invested in rifle cartridges, which he bartered with his brethren for the blankets served out to them by a paternal government. These he sold at a profit, so his wealth had grown and he had become a sub-chief of his tribe and the proprietor of many ponies. One reverse he had met with, to be sure, but he was not cast down, and turned it to his own advantage.

It was in this way. Racing, especially with horses, has always been a favorite sport with the Western Indian. The love of it was strong with Wet Dog, and so was the sentiment of tribal honor. When, for the great semi-annual races, the neighboring tribe of Papagos had entered their famous little cream-colored mare, two of Wet Dog's ponies, trained as carefully as his nature and knowledge permitted, ran against her, heavily backed. The mare added another victory to her unbroken score, and the Apaches lost heavily in blankets, ponies, and other valuable things. To lose them was bad enough, but that they should have gone to increase the wealth of the Papagos, the natural prey of the Apaches, a tribe that never fought nor killed anyone, and so was not esteemed even by the Government as worthy of rations, that was addicted to the wearing of hats, cultivation of the soil, and other unnatural and degrading practices, was unbearable, and even now Wet Dog grew indignant at the thought.

But Wet Dog was a man of resource, and on the evening of his defeat, having disinterred from under the floor of his residence the Springfield rifle which he had acquired from a deserter, and hidden, together with a bag containing sundry dollars and halves, he rounded up all his ponies-a goodly bunch-and departed Eastward. At Albuquerque he converted his horses into gold, which only an educated Indian will recognize as money, and boarded an East-bound freight train. For awhile his former haunts knew him

not, but when the time for the next racemeeting was nearly arrived, he returned, and on horseback.

He said nothing concerning his new mount, but, nevertheless, the tribe turned out in a body to inspect it. They knew the small, lean head with its pointed ears and long, thin neck, for the better run of their own cow-hocked ponies had these, but the well-ribbed barrel, powerful quarters, and thin, flat legs appealed to them with all the force of a novelty, and they marvelled greatly. Even the old Chief of the Three Sections grunted his approval, and called a council for that night, where a tax was voted by acclamation to buy barley for the new-comer, and hay, for grass he must not eat.

Then the next day Wet Dog bought a buggy-whip at the post-trader's, which he took, together with his eldest son and the horse, to a secluded valley near by, and the training commenced. As the animal stood with the boy on his back, Wet Dog would fire a pistol held in one hand; with the other, at the same time, bringing the whip sharply across the forelegs of the horse, which would rear and whirl; another cut over the haunches, and he would spring away in the direction opposite that in which he had been facing. Soon the whip became unnecessary, for he would turn and start at the sound of the shot, and the training was completed.

Then the great race-day, when Papagos and Apaches were gathered on opposite sides of the short, straight course, mingling only in the betting-place where they staked their possessions on the horses which carried the glory of the tribe, as well as nearly all its worldly goods. With what attention they watched the racers as they walked toward the starting-point! Not that Wet Dog showed any interest in the affair; that was proper only for squaws and Papagos and such things. But he felt it. It is a foolish practice, he thought, to post the horses with their tails to the finish. How quickly that mare turned! Much more readily than Wet Dog's horse, but that was the inherited instinct of the cow-pony. No training could equal that, and, truly, the mare ran fast; the Papagos were howling with joy. But soon their voices lowered, for the long stride of the thoroughbred was telling. The horse

closed up; then his beautiful neck and shoulders appeared in the lead, and the Apache women broke into delirious shrieks as he won, hard held, by a length. The tribe was embarrassed with riches. Rifles and blankets were plenty, and the cartridges, hitherto treasured, were now used to shoot rabbits. To Wet Dog this was due, so his people honored him; his horses were three where there had before been one, and the bunch grew larger with each successive race, until no Indian would bet against this strange horse from the East. So he had come to Cactus City, where the white men were to hold a fiesta. There were to be races, and therefore wealth would result to him; to his kin as well.

Far below him the brown Gila crawled between its weed-fringed banks, dividing the two strips of rich pasture-land, the nearer one of which was dotted with the awkwardly moving forms of hobbled ponies. On a little rise, shaded by a cottonwood tree, the racer was standing, being rubbed down with bunches of grass by two of Wet Dog's squaws. Beyond the other strip of pasture was a spur of the opposite mesa, lower and broader than the one on which Wet Dog's camp was placed, and there the two canvas saloons and the store which constituted Cactus City showed glaringly white against the black basalt cliff as the sun fell full on their gable ends.

Three men came out of the larger saloon, the Triangle, and, mounting their horses, rode away down the river. Wet Dog knew them all. Daddy Gab, the big one, was the proprietor of the Triangle. He had much money, which he would bet, and which, therefore, would accrue to Wet Dog. Another was Greaser Pete, who kept the Black Cat, next door. He also had money, but the Chief reflected sadly that with him it was not well for an Indian to have dealings. He was not of a trustful nature, and his suspicions and sixshooter would generally be aroused together. The third was a cow-boy; a thing which Wet Dog hated, as an Apache should. The three rounded a point of cliff and passed at once from Wet Dog's sight and mind, for his heart was at the place, a little up the river, where the course of the morrow was being laid out.

A few miles below, another horseman

casion, suh, I'd be glad ef you could get a bet wiv dat Indian an' put dis on fo' me," taking, as he spoke, a heavy buckskin bag from his pocket. Don' bet wiv no white man. Dat's sinful; but an Indian's one of de los' tribes, an' mus' be luhned not to steer heself 'gains' de Gospel."

Gabriel slapped him on the back, laughing and agreeing volubly, but his companion only smiled. He was a taciturn man. "We'd better go, Gabe," he said. “Faith, we had," responded the other. They might miss us. Ye'll stop here, yer revrince, fer now. It is best the mare should not be seen. After dark, Sam, here, will show you the way. So long." He swung himself on his horse, and was about to ride away when the darky stopped him. "'Scuse me, suh, one moment," he said. "Should you have occasion to speak ov me in public kin'ly call me Jones, suh, John Jones, widout no Reveren'. It's on account of de ol' wo—of Mrs. Randolph, suh. Women don' understan' these affaiahs, an' it's as well she shouldn' know erbout it. Good-day, suh."

The morning of the fiesta broke clear and hot, as is the habit of mornings in that country, and that portion of Cactus City that had been in bed, rose with the dawn to finish the preparations. The Triangle and the Black Cat were swept and garnished; the quarters of beef which had been slowly roasting over the great trenches of mesquit coals, were turned for the last time by the smoke-grimed cooks, who then gave place to those who came to relieve them and, after refreshing themselves at the Triangle bar, went off to get some needed sleep before arraying their persons for the festivities.

Soon the spectators began to arrive. On horseback and on foot, from far up and down the river, they came. Great four or six horse wagons came creaking in along the sandy road, some of them containing women, the wives or daughters of the ranchers. Already the men had crowded to suffocation the big saloons, where extra hands were busily employed in shoving the black bottles and thick-bottomed glasses along the bar, from one to another of the crowd of customers who rested their elbows on them, disturbing the swarms of flies which were feasting on the smears made by the wet bottoms of the

over-filled tumblers. Outside, knots of men stood about, talking or uncinching their saddles. Many cow-boys there were, with their leather leggings and big-belled spurs. Vaqueros, dressed in tight-fitting trousers and short jackets of copper red, their broad brimmed, peaked - crowned sombreros heavy with a year's wages in silver. Prospectors, hoboes, ranchers, and all classes that go to make up the sum of frontier humanity were represented-allexcept the saloon man. He was busy inside.

The sports began. Chicken-pulling, shooting, and rough-riding followed each other, but few took much interest in them. Even the roping match, generally the principal event in these fiestas, attracted but little attention; everyone was waiting for the race. The Apache wonder was well known, and the possibilities of a dark winner had been talked of far and near.

A quarter of a mile below the settlement a course had been laid out. Though still short, it was longer than those generally used in that country, and was a curved one instead of the usual straightaway, in order that those who chose might ride down the chord of the arc and thus have an opportunity of seeing something of the whole race. Close by the ranging-poles, which showed where the finish was to be, a large tent had been pitched, and around this stood a few white men, but the vast majority of the crowd which swarmed the course from end to end were Indians-Indians of all degrees and from many tribes. Moquis, Maricopas, and Yavapais mingled freely with the Papagos, who wore the hats which were the scorn of their warlike neighbors, and talked together in garrulous groups. Among them stalked the Apaches, alone in the crowd, while the squaws, sitting in groups by themselves, showed their budding civilization by criticising their sisters of the other clans.

From the clearing in the thicket near the start, where his horse had been taken, rode Wet Dog, studying the course for the hundredth time. This was his first race against the whites, and he meant to take no unnecessary chances, though, in truth, everything seemed going his way, for the course was a long one, and did not his horse show to the best advantage where his long stride could tell? Farther, it had been asked of Wet Dog as a favor that the horses should