"I have so loved thee," (sang Ernest one evening), "But cannot, cannot hold thee. Fading like a dream the shadows fold thee, Slowly thy perfect beauty fades away, Good-by, sweet day! Good-by, sweet day!"
There was the soft thud of a footstep in the sand and an Indian appeared in the soft glow of the fire. Ernest broke off his song, abruptly. The newcomer was of indeterminate age, with black hair falling nearly to his waist over a bright red flannel shirt. He wore black trousers girdled at the waist by a broad twist of blue silk. His feet were bare.
"How!" he said, nodding and smiling. "I hear music way out. Come see maybe white medicine man."
"Good evening," returned Ernest. "Sit down by the fire."
"How'd you like a job?" asked Roger. "Did Mr. Preble send you?"
"No job!" The Indian shook his head. "Sick!"
"Is that so?" Roger's voice was sympathetic. "My friend's a good medicine man. Where are you sick?"
"In my tooth!" The visitor opened a capacious mouth, displaying a badly ulcerated gum.
"That's easy! Get the peroxide bottle and a teaspoon, Ern. We'll fix him up, poor duck. What's your name, old man?"
"Qui-tha," replied the Indian.
"All right, Qui-tha. Now you take a teaspoonful of this and hold it in the front of your mouth, see!"
Qui-tha looked closely into the faces of the two men, then with touching docility he did as Roger bade him. In a moment he was blowing foam violently into the fire. The two men looked at each other a little aghast.
"You should have held it in your mouth, Qui-tha!" cried Ernest.
The Indian reached for the teaspoon and poured himself another dose. This he held in his mouth for a moment, gazing at his physicians solemnly the while. Then he again blew foam into the fire.
"Heap strong medicine," he said. "Fine, strong medicine. Never saw such strong medicine. You good medicine men. Qui-tha stay work for you. You let keep bottle."
"Sure," replied Ernest, "only be very careful of it. Don't use it up too fast."
Qui-tha nodded. "You give blanket. Qui-tha sleep here by fire."
And sleep he did, rolled up even as to his head, his feet to the dying embers, while his hosts, undressing by candle light, grinned at each other in silent amusement. When Dick came down with the triweekly barrel of water he was astonished to see Qui-tha slowly weaving yucca stalks into the wire that now bound the poles of the cook tent.
"For heaven's sake, Qui-tha, you old bum, you've always refused to work for me!" he shouted.