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- Артур Конан Дойл
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This
was
evidently
no
ordinary
party
of
immigrants
,
but
rather
some
nomad
people
who
had
been
compelled
from
stress
of
circumstances
to
seek
themselves
a
new
country
.
There
rose
through
the
clear
air
a
confused
clattering
and
rumbling
from
this
great
mass
of
humanity
,
with
the
creaking
of
wheels
and
the
neighing
of
horses
.
Loud
as
it
was
,
it
was
not
sufficient
to
rouse
the
two
tired
wayfarers
above
them
.
At
the
head
of
the
column
there
rode
a
score
or
more
of
grave
ironfaced
men
,
clad
in
sombre
homespun
garments
and
armed
with
rifles
.
On
reaching
the
base
of
the
bluff
they
halted
,
and
held
a
short
council
among
themselves
.
"
The
wells
are
to
the
right
,
my
brothers
,
"
said
one
,
a
hard-lipped
,
clean-shaven
man
with
grizzly
hair
.
"
To
the
right
of
the
Sierra
Blanco
--
so
we
shall
reach
the
Rio
Grande
,
"
said
another
.
"
Fear
not
for
water
,
"
cried
a
third
.
"
He
who
could
draw
it
from
the
rocks
will
not
now
abandon
His
own
chosen
people
.
"
"
Amen
!
Amen
!
"
responded
the
whole
party
.
They
were
about
to
resume
their
journey
when
one
of
the
youngest
and
keenest-eyed
uttered
an
exclamation
and
pointed
up
at
the
rugged
crag
above
them
.
From
its
summit
there
fluttered
a
little
wisp
of
pink
,
showing
up
hard
and
bright
against
the
grey
rocks
behind
.
At
the
sight
there
was
a
general
reining
up
of
horses
and
unslinging
of
guns
,
while
fresh
horsemen
came
galloping
up
to
reinforce
the
vanguard
.
The
word
'
Redskins
'
was
on
every
lip
.
"
There
ca
n't
be
any
number
of
Injuns
here
,
"
said
the
elderly
man
who
appeared
to
be
in
command
.
"
We
have
passed
the
Pawnees
,
and
there
are
no
other
tribes
until
we
cross
the
great
mountains
.
"
"
Shall
I
go
forward
and
see
,
Brother
Stangerson
,
"
asked
one
of
the
band
.
"
And
I
,
"
"
and
I
,
"
cried
a
dozen
voices
.
