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 thatching. The red adobe walls were hung with Chimayo blankets. Over the fire-place was ranged a row of Indian pots and water-jars. Floor, couches, and chairs were strewn with Chimayo and Navajo blankets in their ancient faded colours. A table was cluttered with a miscellaneous assortment of Navajo and Santo Domingo jewelry: silver and turquoise bracelets and rings in profusion, strings of wampum, great lumps of turquoise, and leather belts set at intervals with medallions of silver embossed with symmetrical designs.

Ambrose had no more than time to note the general effect—the precise character of these and other objects, such as the primitive santos, he acquired later—before Jack appeared in the doorway in corduroy trousers, tucked in high boots, and a soft, brown flannel shirt, open at the collar.

Ambrose, old man, but I am delighted to see you!

He extended his hand and Ambrose grasped it with enthusiasm. What a relief this was after his misadventures of the past week!

I just received your telegram two hours ago, Jack explained. No time to meet you at Lamy, but I guess you came through all right.

Without the least trouble, Ambrose assured his