The man is of middle height, raw-boned and spare.

Shaggy hair bristles from under the strands that surround his head like a turban.

He wears nothing but a kilt of deerskin; from his shoulders hangs a quiver; a flint knife depends from the belt.

This man is no village Indian, notwithstanding that dark paint on his body.

It is one of the hereditary foes of the sedentary aborigines,--a Navajo! He is eying the dead body suspiciously.