A fair amount of beauty as well as convenience marked 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, 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 to him
by Dolores. 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 slight ripple in the water on the shallow place, such as
ought to have made them suspect it at once.
The discovery of the ford made the spot safe for the 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.
Long after Ni-ha-be was sound asleep, her adopted sister was lying wide
awake, and gazing at the stars overhead.
"I remember now," she said to herself. "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."
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 in the talking leaves 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. 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 the ford."
[Illustration: THE APACHE WOMEN WAITING FOR THE RETURN OF THE BRAVES.]
The return of the warriors was eagerly watched for, but Many Bears did
not seem disposed to hurry back to his camp after his meeting with Steve
and Murray.
Perhaps he was the more willing to ride slowly because it gave him an
opportunity to ask a great many questions, and to consider the answers
given.
He did not seem very curious as to the past history of his new friends.
Indian politeness compelled him to let them keep their own affairs to
themselves. Besides, the account they gave sounded well.
"Send Warning and Knotted Cord find mine? Ugh! Good. Apache not want
him. Friend keep him. Then other pale-faces come for mine? Ugh! Bad.
Drive off friend. Too many rifle. Too many big strong. You not like it.
Ugh! Apaches drive 'em all away. Take every scalp. You see."
"We're in no hurry about the mine," said Murray. "Go back for it some
day. Too many Lipans now."
"They go away too. Go beyond mountains. Never come over here before.
Apaches teach 'em a lesson."
The mind of Many Bears was very much troubled. He wanted to travel
westward as fast as possible, and yet here was a band of his tribe's
worst and most ancient enemies within easy striking distance. Not to
speak of Captain Skinner and his men, and the "plunder" there might be
in their "outfit."
"What you say? Send Warning tell friend what do."
"Let 'em all alone," said Murray, promptly. "Maybe Lipans fight
pale-faces. Maybe not. Both get scared and go away. No good to lose
warrior for nothing."
"Get scalp. Get big name. Tribe say great chief."
That was the difficulty. His pride was in the way of his good sense.
Murray did his best in the remainder of that ride, and his peaceful
advice might perhaps have been taken if it had not been for the hot
temper of the younger braves and the "war spirit" they found at the camp
on their arrival.
"They're a venomous lot," said Murray to Steve, as he looked around him,
while they were riding in. All the mixed "reserve" who could get ponies
had mounted them and ridden out to meet their chief and his warriors.
More than one squaw was among them, ready to ply bow and arrows, or even
a lance, if need should be.
Rita, who was on the look-out, saw the party as it approached, and
called out to Ni-ha-be:
"Where are your eyes? Don't you see who is coming?"
"Father? All the braves? Oh, Rita, there are Knotted Cord and Send
Warning!"
They did not so much as guess how eagerly their faces were all the while
sought for by the eyes of the two pale-faces.
"Do you see them, Murray?" had been the first thing Steve had said as
they were riding in.
"Not yet. Be careful, Steve. If you see them, you must not speak to
them. Contrary to rule."
"Not speak to them!"
"Not till the chief himself introduces you. Even after that you must not
say too much."
Steve was well pleased, as he looked around him, to see how very strong
was that band of Apaches. It seemed as if he had just so much more
reason to feel safe about again falling into the hands of the Lipans.
True, he was among the wildest kind of Indians, but he was not a
prisoner, and the Apaches had no claim on him.
"They will not care whether I go or stay," he said to himself.
He had not gotten away from them yet, however, and among the first to
welcome him was Red Wolf.
Steve was glad to meet the young brave again, and showed it, and so did
Murray.
The latter, indeed, won the heart of Many Bears by saying of his son, in
the presence of the warriors standing by,
"Brave young man. Stand right up and fight. Make a great war chief some
day. I like him."
"Young men go," said Many Bears. "Send Warning stay with gray-heads."
Steve walked away at his new friend's side, both of them a little
puzzled what to do or say, until Steve asked a question in Mexican
Spanish.
The ice was broken. Red Wolf understood that tongue as well as Steve
did.
"You are my brother. You are not a pale-face."
Steve was not altogether ignorant of Indian manners and of their bitter
prejudices, and he replied:
"Brother. Yes. All right. I am an Apache now. Fight for tribe. Fight for
brother."
That was precisely what he had already done, so that it was more than a
mere profession, but the reply of Red Wolf had a great deal of frankness
in it:
"Red Wolf is an Apache. He hates pale-faces. Glad his brother has come
to be an Apache. Eat with him now. Show him foolish young squaw that ran
away and got caught. Squaw know very little."
They had walked along for some distance when Red Wolf said that he was
very near his own camp fire. He had not intended this remark for any
ears but those of Steve Harrison, and his pride forbade his noticing the
ripple of laughter which immediately followed it.
"Did you hear him, Rita?" said Ni-ha-be. "He was one of the braves who
went to find the ford. They forgot to ask the squaws where to look for
it."
Steve heard the rippling laugh, but he did not understand the words.
Could they be making fun of him?
His cheeks burned red hot at the thought of it, for he turned his head
just long enough to see that those two pairs of bright and searching
eyes were looking straight at him. They dropped instantly, but not
before they had seen the quick flush rise to his face.
"Ni-ha-be," said Rita, "he will think we are rude."
"Ni-ha-be, Rita," said Red Wolf at that moment, "tell Dolores she must
cook for Knotted Cord. The chief says so. Bring blanket. Bring water. Be
quick."
"Rita," said Ni-ha-be, while they were dipping their water gourds in the
river, "he is as handsome as an Apache."
The two girls were certainly beginning to take a very great interest in
their white friends and visitors, but they both stood gravely and
silently enough before Red Wolf and Knotted Cord when they brought them
the water.
"Young squaws thank you for help," said Red Wolf. "Both very glad. Very
young. Very foolish. Daughters of great chief himself."
Steve almost forgot Murray's caution, for he frankly held out his hand,
saying,
"I'm glad Murray and I were on hand to help. They're too nice to be
killed. Glad to see them both well."
Mother Dolores was looking on, and was deeply scandalized by the
terrible boldness of Ni-ha-be, for that young lady actually took the
hand Steve held out, and shook it, for all the world as if she had been
a brave.
Such a thing was unheard of, and what made it worse was the fact that
Rita instantly followed her example.
Red Wolf hardly knew what to say, but he was pretty well used to seeing
Ni-ha-be have her own way. He was pleased that they had stopped short of
so grave an offense as speaking.
"Rita will go. She will bring the talking leaves by-and-by. Red Wolf has
a question to ask of his brother. Ni-ha-be go too."
Steve would have been glad to make a longer "call" upon the daughters of
the great chief, but they quietly walked away, as became them, not even
laughing until they were at some distance.
Then it was Ni-ha-be who laughed, for Rita was thinking about the
talking leaves, and wishing with all her heart that she could manage to
ask some questions of her own concerning them.
"If he could not answer me, I am sure Send Warning could. He is old and
he is wise, and I know he is good."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]