AFTER sailing down the great river for many days the Golden Hearted and the wise men came into a trackless waste with no means of finding their way out except by watching where the sun rose and shooting an arrow ahead of them. This was very slow work and they all grew quite discouraged over it.

"It is altogether too bad that for fear of getting lost we must halt each time and speed another arrow before we overtake the last one," said the Golden Hearted one day when they were nearly worn out with the heat and dust of a country not much better than a desert. "I have a feeling," he continued, "that we will not be well treated by the people we find here. I do so wish we might come to the cactus and the rock with a serpent at its base where my father commanded me to found a city in honor of the sun."

"We are going in the right direction," answered the wise men, "but the end of our search is not yet."

"And much as my heart yearns for the Happy Island I will not return to my father until all his wishes have been fulfilled."

Through the murky gray clouds the stars did not make much light, and there was only a thin crescent moon, which gave a sense of utter loneliness to the Golden Hearted when he went to bed that night. The coyotes all around him howled and that made it worse, but he finally fell asleep. By and by he was awakened by a cold, wet nose touching his hand, and when he raised up on his elbow to see what it was, there stood a coyote. They are not very dangerous animals but they are sneaking and treacherous. Now we know that the Golden Hearted was gentle and kind to all creatures, and the coyote must have known it too, for it rubbed its head on his hand and did not seem in the least afraid.

"Come, my good fellow, let us be friends," said the Golden Hearted. "I will not hurt you, and you can guide me to my brethren. I have never seen their faces, but wish very much to find them."

The coyote wrinkled up his nose and made a funny little sneezing sound as if he were talking, and he wagged his tail as friendly as a dog. Maybe he did not understand what was said to him, but anyhow he felt safe enough to lie down close to his new friend and go sound asleep. When the wise men saw him the next morning, they said:

"It is a good omen and means that we shall soon come to a stopping place where strange events will happen."

This put the Golden Hearted into a better humor because he felt less doubtful and discouraged and he was much interested in the antics of the sagacious little companion that trudged by his side all day long. The coyote was enterprising enough to kill as many birds as it needed for food, without going far out of the way and was not a whit of trouble to anybody. There was not a tree nor a shrub to hide the nakedness of the dusty plains, nor was it possible to rest with any comfort until after the sun went down.

All of a sudden the coyote stopped short, pricked up its ears and listened intently.

"Yelp! yelp! yelp!" was what the Golden Hearted heard, and it sounded as if there were hundreds of young puppies everywhere. Looking closely he discovered little heaps of earth with a smooth-headed animal sitting on all fours beside it and yelping a protest to being disturbed. They were right in the midst of a village of prairie dogs, which are about the size of a jack-rabbit, but not nearly so destructive.

"Come and see what I have found," called out the Golden Hearted to the wise men who were coming up behind him. At the sound of his voice the prairie dogs gave a quick, short yelp, their heels twinkled in the air for a second, and they fairly turned a somersault diving into their holes. By the time the wise men were ready to look there was not a whisker of an inhabitant to be seen.

"What is it?" they said, "Where! we do not see anything."

"Watch these fresh piles of dirt, and you will see something come out of them," said the Golden Hearted.

"Yes;" said one, "there are some rattlesnakes."

"And here are some owls," said another. "Is it possible that you have never seen these creatures before?" and the wise men laughed at the Golden Hearted and thought they had a good joke on him.

"Let us keep quiet for a while. I tell you there is something else in those burrows besides snakes and owls," he insisted seriously.

Not hearing any more noise, one after another of the little prairie dogs put its head up out of the hole, and then stole forth cautiously to talk the matter over with its next door neighbor. There were regular beaten pathways or lanes from one burrow to another and they were evidently on very friendly footing with each other.

"These are indeed curious little animals," said the wise men, now much interested. "They not only live in communities, but keep the peace with their brothers, the snake and the owl. There is certainly no greater source of knowledge than the book of nature. Here God puts before us the thing He wishes us to learn."

At the very first words of the wise men the prairie dogs scampered back into their holes; and before they showed themselves again a party of husbandmen came along on their way to a harvest field which they said was a day's journey ahead.

"Why do you linger in this desert?" they asked of the Golden Hearted. "There are habitations farther on where the earth is watered."

"We are seeking those who need our assistance and must only tarry where we are welcome," he answered.

"Then come to our commune. We have no one to show us how to heal the sick nor to coax fertility out of this barren soil," they said. "If you will go, we will remain for the night and lead the way."

So it was arranged and to everybody's comfort and joy it began to rain shortly after and then the air was much more cool and pleasant.

The little prairie dogs were not so well pleased with this arrangement. They stuck their noses up into the moist air and whined and yelped half of the night. There can be no doubt that they were holding an indignation meeting, and were having a noisy and windy debate. May be they were comparing notes about the tall hats and veils of the wise men, or they may not have thought their long beards becoming. Or who shall say that they were not in their own peculiar fashion devising plans for safety, and to vindicate their offended dignity? They may have objected seriously to having strange men intruding upon their privacy, and it must not be considered a reflection on their courage because they scampered out of sight at the sound of a human voice. It was quite enough to frighten inoffensive little animals like these.

"THE WRATHY CHIEFTAIN"