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masonry； a watch…tower upon which the young men used
to entice eagles and snare them with nets。 Sometimes
for a whole morning Thea could see the coppery breast
and shoulders of an Indian youth there against the sky；
see him throw the net； and watch the struggle with the
eagle。
Old Henry Biltmer； at the ranch； had been a great deal
among the Pueblo Indians who are the descendants of the
Cliff…Dwellers。 After supper he used to sit and smoke his
pipe by the kitchen stove and talk to Thea about them。
He had never found any one before who was interested in
his ruins。 Every Sunday the old man prowled about in the
canyon； and he had come to know a good deal more about
it than he could account for。 He had gathered up a whole
chestful of Cliff…Dweller relics which he meant to take
back to Germany with him some day。 He taught Thea
how to find things among the ruins： grinding…stones； and
drills and needles made of turkey…bones。 There were frag…
ments of pottery everywhere。 Old Henry explained to her
that the Ancient People had developed masonry and pot…
tery far beyond any other crafts。 After they had made
houses for themselves； the next thing was to house the
precious water。 He explained to her how all their customs
and ceremonies and their religion went back to water。 The
men provided the food； but water was the care of the wo…
men。 The stupid women carried water for most of their
lives； the cleverer ones made the vessels to hold it。 Their
pottery was their most direct appeal to water； the envelope
and sheath of the precious element itself。 The strongest
Indian need was expressed in those graceful jars； fashioned
slowly by hand； without the aid of a wheel。
When Thea took her bath at the bottom of the canyon；
in the sunny pool behind the screen of cottonwoods； she
sometimes felt as if the water must have sovereign quali…
ties； from having been the object of so much service and
desire。 That stream was the only living thing left of the
drama that had been played out in the canyon centuries
ago。 In the rapid； restless heart of it； flowing swifter than
the rest； there was a continuity of life that reached back
into the old time。 The glittering thread of current had a
kind of lightly worn； loosely knit personality； graceful and
laughing。 Thea's bath came to have a ceremonial gravity。
The atmosphere of the canyon was ritualistic。
One morning； as she was standing upright in the pool；
splashing water between her shoulder…blades with a big
sponge； something flashed through her mind that made her
draw herself up and stand still until the water had quite
dried upon her flushed skin。 The stream and the broken
pottery： what was any art but an effort to make a
sheath； a mould in which to imprison for a moment the
shining； elusive element which is life itself；life hurrying
past us and running away； too strong to stop； too sweet to
lose？ The Indian women had held it in their jars。 In the
sculpture she had seen in the Art Institute； it had been
caught in a flash of arrested motion。 In singing； one made
a vessel of one's throat and nostrils and held it on one's
breath； caught the stream in a scale of natural intervals。
IV
THEA had a superstitious feeling about the potsherds；
and liked better to leave them in the dwellings
where she found them。 If she took a few bits back to her
own lodge and hid them under the blankets； she did it
guiltily； as if she were being watched。 She was a guest in
these houses； and ought to behave as such。 Nearly every
afternoon she went to the chambers which contained the
most interesting fragments of pottery； sat and looked at
them for a while。 Some of them were beautifully deco…
rated。 This care； expended upon vessels that could not
hold food or water any better for the additional labor
put upon them； made her heart go out to those ancient
potters。 They had not only expressed their desire； but
they had expressed it as beautifully as they could。 Food；
fire； water； and something elseeven here； in this crack
in the world； so far back in the night of the past！ Down
here at the beginning that painful thing was already
stirring； the seed of sorrow； and of so much delight。
There were jars done in a delicate overlay； like pine
cones； and there were many patterns in a low relief； like
basket…work。 Some of the pottery was decorated in
color； red and brown； black and white； in graceful geo…
metrical patterns。 One day； on a fragment of a shallow
bowl； she found a crested serpent's head； painted in red
on terra…cotta。 Again she found half a bowl with a broad
band of white cliff…houses painted on a black ground。
They were scarcely conventionalized at all； there they
were in the black border； just as they stood in the rock
before her。 It brought her centuries nearer to these peo…
ple to find that they saw their houses exactly as she saw
them。
Yes； Ray Kennedy was right。 All these things made one
feel that one ought to do one's best； and help to fulfill some
desire of the dust that slept there。 A dream had been
dreamed there long ago； in the night of ages； and the wind
had whispered some promise to the sadness of the savage。
In their own way； those people had felt the beginnings of
what was to come。 These potsherds were like fetters that
bound one to a long chain of human endeavor。
Not only did the world seem older and richer to Thea
now； but she herself seemed older。 She had never been
alone for so long before； or thought so much。 Nothing had
ever engrossed her so deeply as the daily contemplation of
that line of pale…yellow houses tucked into the wrinkle of the
cliff。 Moonstone and Chicago had become vague。 Here
everything was simple and definite； as things had been in
childhood。 Her mind was like a ragbag into which she had
been frantically thrusting whatever she could grab。 And
here she must throw this lumber away。 The things that
were really hers separated themselves from the rest。 Her
ideas were simplified； became sharper and clearer。 She felt
united and strong。
When Thea had been at the Ottenburg ranch for two
months； she got a letter from Fred announcing that he
〃might be along at almost any time now。〃 The letter
came at night； and the next morning she took it down
into the canyon with her。 She was delighted that he was
coming soon。 She had never felt so grateful to any one；
and she wanted to tell him everything that had happened
to her since she had been theremore than had happened
in all her life before。 Certainly she liked Fred better
than any one else in the world。 There was Harsanyi； of
coursebut Harsanyi was always tired。 Just now； and
here； she wanted some one who had never been tired； who
could catch an idea and run with it。
She was ashamed to think what an apprehensive drudge
she must always have seemed to Fred； and she wondered
why he had concerned himself about her at all。 Perhaps
she would never be so happy or so good…looking again；
and she would like Fred to see her； for once； at her best。
She had not been singing much； but she knew that her
voice was more interesting than it had