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other ritual before the scalp shooting could be held。 He leaned back against the seat； feeling exhausted but wide awake。 He found himself again retracing all he knew of Luis Horseman； again examining each assorted fact for some semblance of pattern。
The file on Luis Horseman at Window Rock had been typical of those for the relatively few young men who gave Law and Order the bulk of its business。 A few scattered years of schooling on the Reservation； arrests at Gallup and Farmington and Tuba City for drunk and disorderly； beginning when he was seventeen。 Short…term jobs on the Santa Fe railroad maintenance crews and at the strip mine。 A marriage into the Minnie Tso family； a fight； a six…month term in the tribal jail for aggravated assault； and then the knifing at Gallup and the stolen car。 All that was familiar enough。 Too familiar。
〃He acted like he had no relatives；〃 Leaphorn thought and grinned wryly at the old…fashioned expression。 When he was a boy； it was the worst thing his mother could say about anyone。 But then the Navajo Way made the relatives totally responsible for anything one of the family did。 Now that was changing and there were more young men like Horseman。 Souls lost somewhere between the values of The People and the values of the whites。 No good even at crime。
〃Not worth killing；〃 Leaphorn thought。 But someone had killed him； and gone to considerable trouble in doing it。 Why so much trouble？ Why had Horseman's body been moved？ Why had it been left beside the road when it could so easily have been lost forever； buried under the bank of a thousand arroyos or left for the ravens anywhere in twenty…five thousand empty square miles？ And why had Horseman been killed？ Above all； why had he been killed in that peculiar manner？
The question always brought him back to witchcraft。 But all of yesterday afternoon and evening； hours of driving from place to place and hours of frustrating questioning of Hand Tremblers； Listeners； and Singers…all the practitioners who knew the most about magic…had told him nothing。 Only that the Hand Trembler who examined Tsosie had learned in his trance that the witch was a stranger and that the cure must be an Enemy Way。 It was not； Leaphorn knew； a ceremonial lightly undertaken。 It required two Singers； one for the patient and one at the Stick Receiver's camp； and the Scalp Shooter。 In some cases there would also be a team of Tail Singers for the coyote songs； and the seven Black Dancers。 Even without the special performers； the Singers and the Scalp Shooter would cost the Tsosie family at least 200 in fees。 Dozens of sheep would have to be killed to feed the crowds at both camps； and several hundred dollars more would go for the gift exchanges。 Leaphorn thought the Tsosie uncles and cousins who would have to help bear this heavy cost would approve the Sing only if they were sure there had been a witching。 And how the devil could they be sure if they hadn't identified the witch？
Leaphorn saw smoke rising from the smoke hole of the ceremonial hogan。 Sandoval； who had been burning pine and willow bark by the brush shelter； had collected his ashes and gone into the log building。 The fire inside would be to burn sweet…grass； dodgeweed； rock sage； and grama mixed with crow and buzzard feathers； producing a sooty substance to be mixed with the bark ashes and used to blacken the patient for his attack on the enemy scalp。 Over the fire； Sandoval would be singing the old chants； the old songs to the Holy People…not prayers of humility or supplication； and not pleas for forgiveness； but songs which sought nothing but to restore man's harmony with all that was elemental。
The sagebrush flats were stirring with activity now。 A horse race was being organized behind an array of parked pickups。 There will be gambling on that； Leaphorn thought； and maybe a fight。 Cook fires were burning everywhere。 By the hogans； the women of the family were preparing the ceremonial food which two girls would soon take out to provide the ritual meal for those ing from the other camp。 Leaphorn felt a sudden fierce pride in The People。 He remembered the Blessing Way held when he and his cousins had left after their last furlough for Camp Pendleton and then for Saigon and Okinawa。
He remembered the sweat bath and the Singer； even older than Sandoval； sprinkling his shoulders with the sacred pollen； and the old； cracked voice rising over the rhythm of the pot drum。
〃In the house made of dawn；
in the house made of the evening twilight；
in the house made of dark cloud；
happily may he walk。
In beauty may he walk；
with beauty above him； he walks
with beauty all around him； he walks
with beauty it is finished；
with beauty it is finished。〃
Leaphorn was sleepy now。 The horse race had been run and won by a boy on a pinto； amid much loud laughter。 A small bare…bottomed boy had walked by the carryall； smiled shyly at Leaphorn； and relieved himself in the sage nearby。 A dozen or more women； with their families fed for the morning； were gossiping raucously around an old and rusty sedan。 Three teen…aged girls had led a string of wagon horses down to the spring； watered them； and put them back on the picket rope。 The sky was cloudless now but light blue and hazy on the horizons。 Later the thunderclouds would be building up and there would be showers…at least over the mountains。 Leaphorn saw the two messenger girls lope away carrying the ritual food baskets tied to their saddles。 A moment later to the north he heard a flurry of rifle shots and a swarm of horsemen appeared over the rim of the flat； whooping and trailing plumes of dust。 Leaphorn climbed stiffly out of the carryall to watch the Encounter Between the Camps。 He glanced at his watch。 It was 10：12 A。M。
It was late afternoon before the second serenade had been finished and the gifts exchanged。 They had been thrown out to the crowd of visitors…first the sacrificial sack of tobacco thrown through the smoke hole of the hogan and caught by a little girl so skinny that it seemed to Leaphorn that she might blow away if the now…gusty breeze caught in her voluminous skirts。 The child had run to her mother and been rewarded with a hug； and then three men of Tsosie's family began tossing out the gifts stacked under the brush shelter。 There were much scrambling and laughing and some sort of practical joke played on a tall man with a mustache and two long braids hanging down his back。 The joke caused an uproar of laughter and knee slapping and even the victim was grinning。
Leaphorn had been talking to a young woman from over near Toadlena and had missed the point of the fun； but he gathered from the shouted remarks that it was bawdy。 He had； by now； been talking for almost six hours and had lost all count of the number of people he had questioned。 Most of them； like this young Salt Water woman from Toadlena； seemed to know nothing at all about subjects which interested Leaphorn。 But he had been able to confirm again beyond any shade of doubt that Horseman had returned to this country after the affair in Gallup and to learn that Billy Nez was at the Stick Carrier's camp。 The plump young man with the horn…rimmed glasses had told him that。 An