AN INDIAN’S ADVICE
He felt that the Indian was playing some kind of a game--a game
which the red man seemed rather to enjoy but which left the white
man very much in the dark.
Less than a mile up the cañon creek Hugh Edwards stopped. It was
useless, he told himself, to go farther. He would wait there until
night, when, under cover of the darkness, he could return to his cabin
and secure food and the small store of gold he had accumulated. Seating
himself on a rock in the shade of a sycamore, where he could watch and
listen for any one attempting to follow his tracks, he gave himself up
to troubled thoughts.
True, the sheriff had not come for him this time, but the officers
might, while in the neighborhood, learn of his presence in the Cañon of
Gold and return to investigate. Suppose, for instance, they should meet
and talk with the Lizard. His supply of gold would not take him far, but
he must go as far as he could; as for his dream and Marta--what a fool
he had been to think that he could ever find gold enough to----
A hand touched his shoulder. With a cry he leaped to his feet, and like
a wild animal caught in a trap whirled to fight.
Natachee made the peace sign. The Indian was smiling as he had smiled
that night when Marta was in his cabin.
The white man’s nerves were on edge. He glared at the Indian angrily.
“What do you mean sneaking up on a man like that?” he demanded. “You’ll
get yourself killed for that trick some day.”
Natachee laughed, and there was a touch of scorn in his voice as he
returned:
“Not by you, Hugh Edwards.”
“And why not by me?” demanded the other, goaded by the Indian’s tone and
by the slight emphasis which the red man placed on his name.
“Because,” said Natachee coolly, “you are not the killing kind, and
because if you should, in a moment of wild madness, attempt such a
thing, I--“ he paused, then with an abrupt change in his tone and manner
said: “I am sorry that I startled you. It was unpardonably rude, I’ll
admit, and you have every reason for being angry. I did not stop to
think.”
“It is nothing,” returned Edwards. “I was a fool to fly up over such a
thing. I--I’m a bit upset just now, that’s all. Forget it.”
He resumed his seat on the rock. The Indian seated himself on the ground
near-by.
Edwards was thinking: Marta had said that Natachee had come to the house
while the officers were there. How much of the sheriff’s talk had the
Indian heard? How much had he guessed? What was he doing here?
Almost as if to answer the white man’s thoughts the Indian said
casually:
“I happened in at the Pardners’ place a while ago and found Sheriff
Burks and two deputies there. I am going to Tucson to-morrow and dropped
in to see if I could do any errand for them or for Miss Hillgrove. Then
I called at your place to offer a like service but you were not at home.
I happened to see you sitting on the rock here as I came up the cañon.”
The Indian did not explain how, before the officers were out of sight,
he had made his way with the noiseless speed of a fox to a point where
from behind rocks and bushes he had witnessed the close of the interview
between Marta and Edwards; and how, after the girl had returned to her
home, he had trailed the white man. Neither did he explain that he had
had no thought of going to Tucson when, from the mountain side, he saw
Sheriff Burks and his men ride up to the Pardners’ place.
“Thank you,” said Edwards, “there is nothing you can do for me in
Tucson.”
Natachee waited several moments before he spoke again, and the
uncomfortable thought flashed into Edwards’ mind that the Indian seemed
particularly pleased that he, the white man, had nothing to say.
Edwards, in an agony of suspense, wondering, fearing, perplexed,
baffled, dared not speak.
At last the Indian said softly:
“The sheriff and his men have gone away. They are satisfied that the
man they are looking for is not here. I assured them that there was no
stranger in the Cañada del Oro.”
“They are gone?” said Edwards doubtfully, as if he feared the Indian
were playing him some cruel trick.
“For this time,” Natachee said gravely.
“You--you--think they will come again?”
The Indian looked away and answered with odd deliberation:
“Who can say? There is always that possibility. Any day--any hour they
may come. But if, in spite of what I told Sheriff Burks, the man wanted
by him is in the Cañada del Oro, my advice to that man would be that he
stay right where he is.”
Hugh Edwards hesitated. He felt that the Indian was playing some kind of
a game--a game which the red man seemed rather to enjoy but which left
the white man very much in the dark.
“You don’t think then that he--that the man could get away, out of this
part of the country, I mean?” he said at last.
“The sheriff and his deputies will be watching every place but the
Cañada del Oro,” returned the Indian. “Because they are just now
satisfied that their man is not here, this is the one safe place for
him. And if they should by any chance return----“
“What,” cried Edwards eagerly, “what if the officers _should_ return?”
Still without looking at his companion Natachee answered:
“There are places in the Cañada del Oro where a man, if he knew these
mountains as I know them, could hide from all the sheriffs in Arizona.”
Haltingly, but with trembling eagerness, Hugh Edwards asked the
inevitable question.
“And would you, Natachee, help such a man under such circumstances?”
“I might.”
At this noncommittal answer Hugh Edwards moved uneasily.
“Do you know,” he said at last, “I have fancied sometimes that you,
being an Indian, hated all white people bitterly.”
Natachee made no reply.
Edwards continued, as one feeling his way over dangerous ground:
“And yet you seem to enjoy the company of Saint Jimmy.”
The Indian rose to his feet and stood looking down upon the white man
and something in his face--a shadow of a cruel smile, a gleam of savage
light in his dark eyes--something--made Edwards rise and draw back a
step.
“I do enjoy the company of Doctor Burton,” said the red man. “He is
suffering. He is dying slowly. He is in torment. I am Natachee the
Indian, why should I not enjoy the company of any white man who is like
your Saint Jimmy or who can be made to suffer in any way?” For a moment
he paused, then in a voice that made his words almost a command, he
added: “I will return from Tucson in three days. In the meantime if it
should be necessary for you to go into the upper part of this cañon,
find my hut if you can and make yourself at home. You will be very
welcome. If you should not find my place--if you should get yourself
lost, for instance, have no fear, I will find you. But if I were you I
would not leave my cabin and my friends down yonder unless it were
absolutely necessary.”
Without waiting for a reply the Indian turned, and climbing the steep
bank of the creek with amazing ease and quickness, disappeared.
Hugh Edwards went slowly back to his cabin.
Marta, who was watching, saw him coming and ran joyously to meet him.