But this ended in nothing; the Apaches sullenly cantered away; the others soon checked their pursuit.
Now came the question of encampment.

To get the wagons up the bluff, eight hundred feet or so in height, along a path which had been cut in the rock or built up with stone, was obviously impossible.

Would there be safety where they were, just at the base of the noble slope?
The Moquis assured them by signs that the plundering horse-Indians never came so near the pueblos.

Camp then; the wagons were parked as usual in a hollow square; the half-starved animals were unharnessed and allowed to fly at the abundant grass; the cramped and wearied travellers threw themselves on the ground with delight.
"What a charming people these Monkeys are!" said Aunt Maria, surveying the neat and smiling villagers with approval.
"Moquis," Coronado corrected her, with a bow.
"Oh, Mo-kies," repeated Aunt Maria, this time catching the sound exactly.
"Well, I propose to see as much of them as possible.

Why shouldn't the women and the wounded sleep in the city ?" "It is an excellent idea," assented Coronado, although he thought with distaste that this would bring Clara and Thurstane together, while he would be at a distance.
"I suppose we shall get an idea from it of the ancient city of Mexico, as described by Prescott," continued the enthusiastic lady.
"You will discover a few deviations in the ground plan," returned Coronado, for once ironical.
Aunt Maria's suggestion with regard to the women and the wounded was adopted.