Knowing that the troops were out, the Indians followed no beaten road but rode south across the Gila and then turned southeast through the hills toward Pimos Canyon.
"Dirty" Cheetim, with a lead rope on Wichita's horse, rode beside the girl.
"Thought you was too high-toned for 'Dirty' Cheetim, eh?" he sneered. "You was too damn good to be Mrs. Cheetim, eh? Well, you ain't a-goin' to be Mrs. Cheetim. You're just a- goin' to be one 0' 'Dirty' Cheetim's girls down at the Hog Ranch. Nobody don't marry them."
Wichita Billings made no reply. She rode in silence, her eyes straight to the front. Hicks, the young puncher who had roped the girl's horse, rode a few paces to the rear. In his drink muddled brain doubts were forming as to the propriety of the venture into which Cheetim had led him. Perhaps he was more fool than knave; perhaps, sober, he might have balked at the undertaking. After all he was but half conscious of vaguely annoying questionings that might eventually have crystallized into regrets had time sufficed, but it did not.
They were winding up Pimos Canyon toward the deserted shack. "Your old man kicked me out," Cheetim was saying to the girl. "I reckon you're thinking that he'll get me for this, but he won't. After you bin to the Ranch a spell you won't be advertising to your old man, nor nobody else, where you be. They's other girls there as good as you be, an' they ain't none of 'em sendin' out invites to their folks to come an' see 'em. You- Hell ! Look! Injuns!"
Over the western rim ,of Pimos Canyon a dozen yelling Apaches were charging down the steep hillside.
"Geronimo!" screamed Cheetim and, dropping the lead rope, wheeled about and bolted down the canyon as fast as spur and quirt and horse flesh could carry him.
The four remaining men opened fire on the Apaches, and in the first exchange of shots two had their horses shot from under them. Hicks' horse, grazed by a bullet, became unmanageable and started off down the canyon after Cheetim's animal, pitching and squealing, while a third man, realizing the futility of resistance and unhampered by sentiments of chivalry, put spur and followed.
One of the dismounted men ran to the side of Wichita's horse, seized her arm and dragged her from the saddle before she realized the thing that was in his mind; then, vaulting to the horse's back, he started after his fellows while the girl ran to the shelter of a bowlder behind which the sole remaining white man had taken up a position from which he might momentarily, at least, wage a hopeless defense against the enemy.
Shoz-Dijiji and Gian-nah-tah, racing toward the girl, saw her dragged from her horse, saw her take refuge behind the bowlder, and the latter, knowing that the girl was safe, raced after the white man who had stolen her horse and left her, as he thought, to the merciless attentions of a savage enemy.
Shoz-Dijiji, calling his warriors together, circled away from the bowlder behind which the two were crouching. The white man looked from behind the bowlder. Slowly he raised his rifle to take aim. The girl raised her eyes above the level of the bowlder's top. She saw the Apache warriors gathered a hundred yards away, she saw the rifle of the white man leveled upon them, and then she recognized Shoz- Dijiji.
"Don't shoot!" she cried to her companion. "Wait!"
"Wait, hell!" scoffed the man. "We ain't got no more chanct than a snowball in Hell. Why should I wait?"
"One of those Indians is friendly," replied the girl. "I don't think he'll hurt us or let the others hurt us when he knows I'm here."
Gian-nah-tah, riding fast, had pulled alongside his quarry. With clubbed rifle he knocked the white man from the saddle and in a dozen more strides had seized the bridle rein of the riderless horse.
The man behind the bowlder drew a fine sight on the buck who appeared to be the leader of the renegades. It was Shoz-Dijiji. Wichita Billings snatched the white man's six- shooter from its holster and shoved the muzzle against his side.
"Drop that gun!" she cautioned; "or I'll bore you."
The man lowered his rifle to the accompaniment of lurid profanity.
"Shut up," admonished Wichita, "and look there!"
Shoz-Dijiji had tied a white rag to the muzzle of his rifle and was waving it to and fro above his head. Wichita stood up and waved a hand above her head. "Stand up!" she commanded, addressing the white man behind the bowlder. The fel- low did as he was bid and, again at her command, , accompanied her as she advanced to meet Shoz-Dijiji, who was walking toward them alone. As they met, the Black Bear seized the white man's rifle and wrenched it from his grasp. "Now I kill him," he announced.
"No! Oh, no!" cried Wichita, stepping between them.
Why not?" demanded Shoz-Dijiji. "He steal you, eh?"
"Yes, but you mustn't kill him," replied the girl. "He came forward under the protection of your white flag."
"White flag for you--not for dirty coyote," the Black Bear assured her. "I give him his rifle, then. Him go back. Then I get him."
"No, Shoz-Dijiji, you must let him go: He doesn't deserve it, I'll admit; but it would only bring trouble to you and your people. The troops are already out after Geronimo. If there is a killing here there is no telling what it will lead to."
"No sabe white-eyed men," said Shoz-Dijiji disgustedly. "Kill good Indian, yes; kill bad white-eye, no." He shrugged. "Well, you say no kill, no kill." He turned to the white man. "Get out, pronto! You sabe?Get out San Carlos. Shoz-Dijiji see you San Carlos again, kill. Get!"
"Gimme my rifle and six-gun," growled the white, sullenly.
Shoz-Dijiji laid his hand on Wichita's arm as she was about to return the man's six-shooter. "Shut up, and hit the trail, white man," he snapped.
The other hesitated a moment, as though about to speak, looked into the savage face of the Apache, and then started down Pimos Canyon toward the main trail just as Gian-nah- tah rode up leading the girl's horse.
"Gian-nah-tah,"said the Black Bear,"Shoz-Dijiji, the Be-don-ko-he Apache, rides with the white-eyed girl to the hogan of her father to see that she is not harmed by white-eyed men upon the way." There was the trace of a smile in the eyes of the Indian as he spoke. "Perhaps," he continued, "Gian-nah-tah will ride to the camp of my father and tell him that Nan-tan-des-la-par-en has sent troops toward the south to bring Geronimo in, dead or alive.
"When the white-eyed girl is safe Shoz-Dijiji will join his father. Perhaps other Apache warriors will join him. Who knows, Gian-nah-tah?"
"I shall join him," said Gian-nah-tah.
The other warriors, who had slowly drawn near, had overheard the conversation and now, without exception, each assured Shoz-Dijiji that he would join Geronimo at once or later.
As Wichita mounted her horse and looked about her at the half circle of savage warriors partially surrounding her it seemed incredible that yesterday these men were, and perhaps again tomorrow would be, the cruel, relentless devils of the Apache war-trail.
Now they were laughing among themselves and poking fun at the white man plodding down the canyon and at the other whom Gian-nah-tah had knocked from Wichita's horse and who was already regaining consciousness and looking about him in a dazed and foolish manner.
It seemed incredible that she should be safe among them when she had been in such danger but a moment before among men of her own race. Many of them smiled pleasantly at her as she tried to thank them for what they had done for her; and they waved friendly hands in adieu as they rode off with Gian-nah-tah toward the north, leaving her alone with Shoz-Dijiji.
"How can I ever thank you, Shoz-Dijiji?" she said. "You are the most wonderful friend that a girl could have."
The war chief of the Be-don-ko-he looked her straight in the eyes and grunted.
"Me no sabe," he said, and wheeled his pinto down toward the main trail, beckoning her to follow.