138 THE DESERT AND THE ROSE 



the evening of my homecoming some weeks later 

 Bravo suddenly cut off his boisterous greetings to 

 tear away across the alfalfa. While we still waited 

 and speculated he came bounding back, bearing his 

 sheaves with him — in the shape of the mummified 

 head of his enemy, which he laid at my feet. With 

 waving tail, and dancing eyes fixed alternately on 

 my face and on the one-time head of Peter, he cried 

 plainly enough — "Behold! What do you think of 

 this?" In the end the remains of Peter had to be 

 removed, for it was impossible to predict at what 

 hour Bravo might not unearth portions of Peter 

 and lay them at my feet — which was never agreeable 

 and sometimes embarrassing 



Let us close with the story of the Indian who 

 sought the Happy Hunting Grounds. He started 

 on his long journey accompanied by his squaw, his 

 two sons and his dog. One by one the family de- 

 serted him all save the dog. At last, weary and 

 footsore, the master and his four footed friend 

 neared the Happy Hunting Grounds. Then the 

 watchman at the gates asked : 



"Where are those who were with you at first?" 

 "The way was long. Their feet were weary." 

 "Who is this that stands watching you with eyes 

 that show tears they cannot shed?" 



"He who loves me best," said the Indian. 

 The watchman put his hand on the head of the 

 dog, who gave a joyful leap; and through the gates 

 of the Happy Hunting Grounds shot both the Indian 

 and his friend — into the Land where there is no 

 parting and no tears. 



