Through my glass I made them out to be a party of
twenty-seven Navajos, sitting about a camp-fire eating their dinner.
As many ponies were grazing near, and a mule and burro. From certain
peculiar markings I had observed the day Cordova joined me in the
valleys, I had no difficulty in recognizing the last two animals to be
his property. Packs were lying near the fire, showing that the
captured animals were being used as beasts of burden.
All this time I had entirely overlooked the presence of my dog Vic.
Had I thought of her in season, it would have been easy to have kept
her close at my heels; but I had left her free to wander, not thinking
of any threatening danger.
Suddenly I heard a chorus of grunts from the Indians, and looking in
their direction I saw Vic stand for an instant with her forefeet on a
prostrate log, look questioningly at the savages, and then drop down
into the furze and disappear.
The sight of a white man's dog, wearing a brilliant metallic collar,
produced an electrical effect. Instantly the redmen sprang to their
feet, seized their arms, and began saddling and bridling their ponies.
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