176 A BOOK-LOVER'S HOLIDAYS 



ican wagon-driver and a Navajo cook (both 

 good men), and once or twice for a day or two 

 at a time with Navajos or Utes to act as guides 

 or horse-herders. On a hunting trip after white 

 goat and deer in the Canadian Rockies Archie 

 went with a guide who turned out to be from 

 Arizona, and who almost fell on Archie's neck 

 with joy at meeting a compatriot from the 

 Southwest. He was the son of a Texas ranger 

 and a Cherokee mother, was one of a family of 

 twenty -four children — all native American 

 families are not dying out, thank heaven ! — 

 and was a first-class rifle-shot and hunter. 



The Indians with whom I hunted were hardy, 

 quick to see game, and good at approaching 

 it, but were not good shots, and as trackers 

 and readers of sign did not compare with the 

 'Ndorobo of the east African forests. I always 

 became good friends with them, and when they 

 became assured that I was sympathetic and 

 would not laugh at them they finally grew to 

 talk freely to me, and tell me stories and legends 

 of goblins and ghost-beasts and of the ancient 

 days when animals talked like men. Most of 

 what they said I could not understand, for I 

 did not speak their tongues; and they talked 

 without restraint only when I sat quiet and 

 did not interrupt them. Occasionally one who 



