interlude in what had been a life of action. A man makes his own world, Thomas decided; starting from inside his head and working his way out to the physical world. For Holmes, his stuffy apartments were merely the props that made his inner world comfortable; for Thomas himself, the wide expanse of the desert made his mind sharp and content. It was something he had never realized; and he knew now that he would never return to the life he had been leading in Boston. For him, this infinite sky and dry dust of land was the key to his youth of mind and his mental health.
Murphy's warnings to take care had so far proved needless. The two men he had met, one white, one Indian, had proven friendly and unheedful of his color. The white man had, indeed, been a former army scout, and after introductions, he and Thomas had quickly fallen to swapping names and postings. It had turned out they had at least five friends in common, two retired, the other three still active in northwest duty. And they both shared similar concerns about Theodore Roosevelt.
The Indian had proved less chummy, but more useful as far as Thomas's present task was concerned. He not only knew the surveyor, Tahini, but knew where to find him. They worked for the same mining concern, and the Indian, named Kohono-si, had provided Thomas with exact directions. It would only take another half-day's ride to reach the spot where Tahini was presently working.
When Thomas had thanked Kohono-si for the information, the man had merely grunted and said, "If you go there, be guarded. I told Tahini this, too."
"What do you mean?" Thomas had asked, but Kohono-si had merely grunted again, mounted his horse, and ridden in the opposite direction.
As the ride would bring Thomas into night-fall, he was faced with a dilemma. Since he had originally thought Tahini would be in the area he had written Reeves about, he had the option of waiting for Lincoln or riding on ahead. Though filled with impatience, he had decided to be fair and wait for the young man. He didn't quite admit to himself that he wanted his young Watson's company, which was true.
But Kohono-si had changed his mind. A half hour after Thomas himself had reached the cactus-ridden spot of their meeting, the Indian had ridden up, stopped his horse, and stood staring down at Thomas.
"Something wrong?" Thomas had asked. The Indian looked troubled, yet unwilling to speak.
"You wouldn't be here if you didn't have something to tell me."
"You are the man who fought Pretorio," Kohono-si said solemnly.
"That's right," Thomas said. It occurred to him that his mount was ten feet away, with his rifle in its sling.
"I salute you for that," Kohono-si said. When nothing else was forthcoming, Thomas said, "Thank you."
Kohono-si still seemed to be battling himself. He looked off to the mountains in the near distance. "Pretorio was a bad chief, and his braves killed many of the Tohono O'otam."
"I know that. He killed many braves of many tribes."
Kohono-si grunted. Continuing to look off toward the mountains, he said, "But he is dead, and this is today. Because you are a friend of the Tohono O'otam, I want to warn you that the eagle is in the sacred mountain. The eagle is angry with the Tohono O'otam."
Now he finally looked at Thomas. "Be careful of the eagle. He resides in the sacred mountain, Oto-A-Pe, the one you call Kitt Peak. Do not anger the eagle."
Thomas scratched his chin and said, slowly, "Kohono-si, are the Tohono O'otam going on the warpath?"
Kohono-si looked away, toward the mountains. "This I cannot say. But I know the eagle is angry with Tahini. Tahini was to be on the Council of Elders, and he shunned this for the white man's job and liquor. The eagle is angry."
"Kohono-si, is the white man named Adams near where Tahini is working?"
"This is all I will say."
With that, the brave turned and rode away. Thomas, analyzing the conversation, quickly left Lincoln Reeves a message and set out toward the spot where