"King did not tell me."
"You have seen the lieutenant?"
"We met in Chihuahua," said Shoz-Dijiji. "And you talked with him?"
"Yes."
"But you were on the war path, and he was after you. How could you have met and talked?"
"King and Shoz-Dijiji went into the cattle business together."
"What do you mean?" demanded Wichita.
"When you see King ask him. He will tell you."
"Were you two alone together?"
"Yes, for a day and a night."
"And you did not kill him?"
"No. Shoz-Dijiji does not kill anyone that you love."
"Oh, Shoz-Dijiji," exclaimed the girl, "I can't tell you how much I appreciate that; but really you are mistaken in thinking that I love Lieutenant King."
"All right, next time I kill him."
"No, oh, no, you mustn't do that."
"Why not? He is on the war trail against me. He kill me all right, if he get the chance.If you no love him, I kill him."
"But he is my friend, my very good friend," insisted the girl. "He is your friend, too, Shoz-Dijiji. If I ask you not to kill him will you promise me that you wont?"
"Shoz-Dijiji promise you he no try to kill King. Mebbe so, in battle, Shoz-Dijiji have to kill him. That he cannot help."
"Oh, Shoz-Dijiji, why don't you come in and stop fighting us? It is so useless. You can never win; and you are such a good man, Shoz-Dijiji, that it seems a shame that you should sacrifice your life uselessly."
"No, we can never win. We know that, but what else is there for us? The white-eyed men make war upon us even in peace. They treat us like enemies and prisoners. We are men, the same as they. Why do they not treat us like men? They say that we are bad men and that we torture our prisoners and that that is bad. Do they not torture us? We torture the bodies of our enemies, but the white men torture our hearts. Perhaps all the feelings of the white-eyed men are in their bodies, but that is not so with the Shis-Inday. Bad words and bad looks make wounds in our hearts that hurt us more than a knife thrust in the body. The body wounds may heal but the heart wounds never--they go on hurting forever. No, I shall not come in. I am a war chief among the Be-don-ko-he. Shall I come in to be a 'dirty Siwash' among the white-eyes?"
For a while the girl was silent after the Apache had ceased speaking. Their patient ponies stepped daintily along the rough trail. The descending sun cast their shadows, grotesquely, far ahead. The stifling heat of midday was gradually giving place to the promise of the coming cool of evening.
"We are almost home," said the girl, presently. "I wish you would come and talk with my father. He is not a bad man. Perhaps he can find some way to help you."
"No," said Shoz-Dijiji. "His people and my people are at war. His heart is not friendly toward Apaches. It is better that I do not come."
"But you want to get Nejeunee," insisted the girl.
"You have told me where Nejeunee is. I will get him."
She did not insist, and again they rode in silence until the warrior reined. in his pony just below the summit of a low hill. Beyond the hill, but hidden from their sight, stood the Billings ranch house.
"Good-bye," said Shoz-Dijiji. "I think perhaps we never see each other again. When the soldiers come back from Mexico we go back there and do not come to this country any more."
"Oh, Shoz-Dijiji," cried the girl, "I do not want you to go."
"Shoz-Dijiji does not want to go," he replied. "Your people have driven Shoz-Dijiji from his own country."
"I should think that you would hate me, Shoz-Dijiji."
"No, I do not hate you. I love you," he said simply.
"You must not say that, Shoz-Dijiji," she answered, sadly.
"If Shoz-Dijiji was a white-eyed man, you would listen," he said.
She was silent.
"Tell me," he demanded, "is that not true?"
"Oh, God! I don't know, I don't know," she cried.
"Shoz-Dijiji knows," said the Be-don-ko-he. "Good-bye!"
He wheeled his pony and rode away.
The sun was setting as Wichita Billings dismounted wearily at the corral back of the ranch house. Luke Jensen came from the bunk house to take her pony.
"Where's Dad?" she asked.
"One of the boys found a beef killed this mornin'. He said it looked like Injuns hed done it. Yore Dad rid over to hev a look at it. He ought to be back right smart soon now." Luke glanced over across the back pasture toward the east.
Wichita knitted her brows. "Did he go that way?" she asked.
"Yep," assented Luke.
"Get one of the other boys to go with you, and ride out and meet him. If Apaches killed the beef there may be some of them around." Wichita turned toward the ranch house, hesitated, and then walked back to Luke.
"Luke," she said, "you don't hate all Indians do you?"
"You know I don't, Miss.I'd a bin dead now ef it hedn't a-bin fer one of 'em. Why?"
"Well, if you ever meet an Apache, Luke! remember that, and don't shoot until you're plumb sure he's hostile."
Jensen scratcped his head. "Yes, Miss," he said, "but what's the idee?"
"There may be friendly Indians around, and if you should shoot one of them," she explained, "the rest might turn hostile."
As Wichita walked toward the house Luke stood looking after her.
"I don't reckon she's gone loco," he soliloquized, "but she shore better watch herself."
It was ten o'clock before Luke Jensen returned to the ranch. He went immediately to the house and knocked on the door, entering at Wichita's invitation.
"Your Dad back?" he demanded.
"No. Didn't you see anything of him?"
"Nary hide nor hair."
"Where do you suppose he can be?"
"1 dunno. They's Indians around, though. I bumped plumb into one tother side of the willows in the draw outside the fer pasture gate, an' who do you reckon it was? Why none other than that Shoz-Dijiji fellow what give me a lift that time. He must-a thought some o' the hosses in the pasture were comin' through them willows, fer he never tried to hide hisself at all. I jest rid plumb on top o' him. He knew me, too. I couldn't help but think o' wot you told me just before I left about bein' sure not to shoot up any friendly. Say, did you know he was around?"
"How could I know that?" demanded Wichita.
"I dunno," admitted Luke, scratching his head; "but it did seem dern funny to me."
"It's funny the man with you didn't take a shot at him," commented Wichita. "Most all of the boys believe in shooting an Apache first and inquiring about his past later."
"There wasn't no one with me," explained Luke. "There wasn't no one around but me when I left, and I didn't want to waste time waiting fer someone to show up. Anyways, I kin see alone jest as fer as I kin with help."
"Well, I reckon he'll be coming along pretty soon, Luke," said Wichita. "Good night."
"Good night, Miss," replied Jensen.
Thirteen - BACK TO SONORA
DAWN broke and Wichita Billings still sat fully dressed waiting for her father. It was the first time that she had ever worried greatly over his absence, and she could not explain why she worried now. She had always thought of her father as absolutely able to take care of himself in any emergency. He was a masterful man, utterly fearless, and yet not prone to take unnecessary chances.
A dozen times she had been upon the point of going to the bunk house and sending the entire outfit out to search for him, but each time she had shrunk from the ridicule that she well knew would be slyly heaped upon both her father and herself if she did so without good warrant; but now with a new day come and no word from him, she determined to swallow her pride and carry out her plan, however foolish it might appear.
Persistent knocking on the bunk house door finally elicited a profane request for information as to what was "eating" her.