There was a good deal of beauty as well as convenience in the spot
which the Apache braves had chosen for their camp on the bank of the
river.
Many Bears had approved of it when he came in, but he had said nothing
about the beauty of it. He had only ordered two or three trusty
warriors to go at once and hunt for a ford, so that he could get upon
the opposite bank of the river if necessary.
It was some little time before they found one, a mile lower down, and
then they and the great chief were astonished by a report brought in to
him by Dolores with his supper. Some of the squaws, she said, had
taken their children into the river for a bath, right there by the
camp, and one of them had found a place where she could wade across and
back.
It was afterward found to be a flat ledge of rock, with deep water
above and below, but it was none the less a bitter pill for the pride
of the warriors.
To think of squaws and children presuming to find, right there under
their noses, the very thing they were hunting for up and down so
anxiously! That, too, when any man's eyes, or any woman's, could now
perceive a good deal of a ripple in the water on the shallow place,
such as ought to have made them suspect it at once.
Ni-ha-be's own eyes had been the first to notice that ripple, and she
had set a couple of bright boys at the business of exploring it.
Of course the older squaws claimed the credit, when the ford was found,
but Rita remarked to her sister,
"Let Too Many Toes say she saw it first. Too much talk. She'll be
beaten again if she isn't careful."
"I saw it myself."
"I don't care. You and I have done enough, yesterday and to-day. We
must keep still."
Rita was right, and Ni-ha-be knew it; but it was very hard to hear Too
Many Toes so loudly assert her own acuteness and quickness of vision.
"She's the ugliest squaw in the whole band. Her children are ugly and
her husband is too lazy to feed them, Rita."
"Hush. Father and the chiefs are coming. Walk away."
They did not go far and they were looking back all the while. Many
Bears and his councillors marched dignifiedly down to the bank, and a
tall brave walked right on into the river.
Not a word was spoken while he waded across and back, the water nowhere
rising much above his waist, although it ran pretty swiftly.
His next business was to explore the width of the ledge, and that was
found to be at least ten feet at the narrowest.
Long before that was done, however, Ni-ha-be had been reconciled to the
policy of silence.
Too Many Toes could not be silent, and she disputed so loudly with
another old squaw over their claim to the glory of finding that ford,
that the chief and the councillors felt that something must be done for
discipline.
Many Bears nodded sharply at the husband of Too Many Toes.
"Much noise. Warriors hear too big boasting. Teach squaw."
That was enough, and in a moment more the end of a heavy hide "lariat"
or horse rope was falling rapidly upon the shoulders of the two
offenders, Too Many Toes getting much the larger share of the beating.
Her husband had been one of the braves who had wasted so much time in
finding the other ford, and he agreed with his chief that somebody
ought to be punished for it.
"Serve her right," said Ni-ha-be.
There was no question but what some kind of justice had been done, and
that was a fair specimen of Apache household government.
If the poor, tired-out little mule who had served as an "omnibus" for
Too Many Toes and her family happened to see the use made of that
lariat, perhaps it comforted him too, for she had beaten him
unmercifully all the way, and he was not her mule.
At all events, the discovery of the ford made that a safer place for a
camp. Orders were given not to put up any lodges or unpack any baggage
until morning, and the whole band prepared for a night in the open air.
It was a complete "bivouac" but there was no hardship in it. The air
was dry and warm. There was very little wind. The grass on which they
could spread their blankets and buffalo-skins was deep and soft.
Besides all that, and more important than anything else, they were all
used to it, and would have laughed at anybody who imagined it a
hardship.
Even Rita and Ni-ha-be never thought of such a thing, but after they
lay down together it seemed more than usually difficult to get to sleep.
Nowhere in the world is the air more pure, and there were no clouds,
nor was there yet any moon. The sky was all one blaze of stars, and
the two girls could hardly help gazing at them.
"They're so bright," said Rita.
"I've seen them all before. Just as bright as they are now.
"So many of them, too."
"No more than there always is in good weather. When it rains hard it
puts them out and they have to be lighted again."
"There is something about them in the talking leaves."
"What do they say?"
"I could not hear it all, but I understood some of it. The wise
pale-faces look at the stars and know all their names. All the tribes
of them and families."
"Tribes and families! I don't believe it. They're all one tribe, and
they all shine for the Apaches." There was no denying that, and Rita
had not read or understood enough to say much more.
Long after Ni-ha-be was sound asleep, however, her adopted sister was
lying wide-awake, and staring at all that glory overhead.
"I remember now. It was my father told me about the stars. That's why
I knew what the talking leaves meant. He was very good to me. I can
see him plainer and plainer all the while."
It was a matter of course that one memory should bring back another,
but they were all pretty cloudy as yet. Not bright and clear like the
great stars, but misty and dim like those white streaks in the sky.
Rita gazed and gazed and thought and thought, until at last her eyelids
closed heavily, and she too was asleep. Not so soundly as Ni-ha-be,
for many strange dreams came to her, and all she could remember of them
was the very last and latest of all.
It was just like the picture which Many Bears had spoken about the day
before, only that now the miners did not look like that, and Rita in
her dream actually thought she saw Many Bears himself among the Indians
who were attacking them.
"He said he was there. I see him. They are coming! The squaw I saw
in the book! Mother!"
And suddenly Rita found herself wide awake, and all the rest of her
dream was lost to her.
Ni-ha-be too was awake.
"What is the matter, Rita?"
"Oh, a dream!"
"Ugh! I never dream. That's the talking leaves. Dreams are big lies
like them. What was it?"
"The fight in the picture."
"Miners? Pale-faces? Look, Rita, the braves are mounting to ride
away. It is hardly sunrise, but they are going. Did your dream say
there was any danger coming to us?"
"No, it did not say."
"I don't care. The Apaches are warriors, and Many Bears is a great
chief. He will not let an enemy come near his camp."
"Besides, we can cross the river."
"Yes, by my ford."
"Ni-ha-be, remember what came to Too Many Toes!"
"She talked too much--when the chief and the braves were troubled in
their minds. I know better than to do that. I'll talk to you, though.
It's my ford!"
Mother Dolores was already busy at the nearest camp-fire, for she had
not allowed the great chief to ride away without a nice bit of
something to eat. Meaner braves could go hungry or pick a cold bone as
they rode along. Not so the mighty husband of Dolores, the best cook
of the Apaches. She knew too well where all her importance and dignity
came from, and Many Bears was particularly glad to get his hot
venison-steak that morning. No orders were left behind with reference
to moving the camp, but all the second-rate braves and half-grown boys
were busying themselves over their weapons and ponies with as much
importance in their manner as if they had been so many chiefs.
Some of them were well armed with repeating-carbines and good
revolvers. Others had old and inferior guns. Many of the "boys" had
nothing but bows and arrows, but they knew how to use them, and there
is nothing much more effective in a close fight. Nothing except a
revolver or a lance, and they all had lances.
On the whole, it was clear that Many Bears could muster quite a strong
"reserve," as the soldiers call it, after all his tried and chosen
warriors had ridden away with him at their head.
The fighting fever seemed to be spreading after breakfast, and the
squaws too got out their bows and arrows, and so did the smaller boys.
It looked as if any enemy who should ride into the camp of that band of
Apaches that day would find it a sort of hornets' nest, with all the
hornets, big and little, practising their stings.
Ni-ha-be and Rita were like the rest, and more than one "young brave,"
who had never yet been in any kind of a battle, looked enviously at the
pretty young chief's daughter who could already boast of having sent an
arrow through the arm of a full-grown paleface warrior, and helped
defeat him and his dangerous companions.
That was a bright feather for the cap of any Indian girl, and she had
been compelled to tell the story of it over and over again to the other
squaws.
They came to hear it over now, for it was closely connected in their
minds with the warlike preparations and the evident anxiety of their
chief.
"Ugh!" scornfully remarked old Too Many Toes. "Pale-face have soft
arm. Hold it up for little girl to shoot at. Then laugh at her.
S'pose pale-face come here. I show 'em."
"Yes," rejoined Ni-ha-be, with a flash in her black eyes. "Pale-face
look at you, see your face, run right away. Afraid you'll talk. Hear
you once, then they never come again."
The laughter among the other squaws sounded as if they were not
disposed to admire Too Many Toes, but she had something else to say.
"Little girl take prisoners and then let them go. Just like pale-face
blue-coat. No sense. I kill every one. You see!"
"You?" said Ni-ha-be. "The only prisoner you ever took was a little
rabbit of a mule. He's alive now. You couldn't even talk him to
death."
"She talks too much now," added a dignified middle-aged squaw. "Get
beaten again. We want to know what's coming. Warriors keep it all to
themselves. Did Ni-ha-be hear of many pale-faces?"
"No. Heard Send Warning tell Red Wolf there is danger coming. Believe
what he said. Great chief and all the old men believe too. Good
friend. Young warrior good friend too. Come see us some day. Squaws
cook big dinner."
The questioning was by no means over, but the mention of her last
beating silenced Too Many Toes. Public opinion was against her, and
there were a good many others who had something to say.
Rita, too, came in for her share, and it was remarkable how closely she
and Ni-ha-be were able to describe every article of clothing worn by
their two white friends and their three white enemies, with the color
of their eyes and hair, and every noticeable thing about their arms and
equipments. The girls had eyes of their own, and they had used them to
good purpose. The fact is, Indians can read almost everything
excepting books.