There were young braves, handsome in their bronze-skinned way,
with bands binding their straight thick hair, silver rings in their ears,
silver bracelets on their wrists, silver buttons on their moccasins.
There were girls who looked up from their blanket-weaving with shy
curiosity, and then turned to their frames strung with long threads.
Under their nimble fingers the wool-carrying needles slipped in and out,
and the colored stripes grew apace. Then there were younger boys and
girls, all bright-eyed and curious; and babies sleeping on blankets.
Where the walls and ceiling were not covered with buckskin garments,
weapons and blankets, Hare saw the white wood-ribs of the hogan
structure. It was a work of art, this circular house of forked logs and
branches, interwoven into a dome, arched and strong, and all covered and
cemented with clay.
At a touch of August's hand Hare turned to the old chief; and awaited his
speech. It came with the uplifting of Eschtah's head, and the offering
of his hand in the white man's salute. August's replies were slow and
labored; he could not speak the Navajo language fluently, but he
understood it.
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