children to the
mountains. They had seen more. They had seen their chief struck in the
face with the glove of the young soldier chief--who is not here." And
again the black eyes sought everywhere throughout the circle. "Ramon,
Alvarez and others had vowed that he should die because of Comes Flying
and of me. It was for this they played all so many hours with the
riders from the Verde. They would head them off and hold them. The
soldiers would come to rescue, and maybe the young chief. If so, they
would lure him out beyond the others, and they did. I could not break
their will. I saw their plan only just in time. They were in hiding
among the rocks beyond the ridge, with only one or two in sight before
them. He was galloping straight into their trap. There was just one way
to save him and be true to our pledge to the Great Father. I shot to
kill his horse, not him. My rifle would have carried just as true had
it been aimed at his heart. He who struck me at the ranch--and
denounced me here--owes his life to 'Tonio."

In the dramatic pause that followed a murmur of sympathy and
admiration, irrepressible, flew from lip to lip. He noted it, but gave
no sign.

"The young white chief says again I shot or sought to kill him that
night at the ford. Again I could have done so, and again I sought to
save. He was my enemy. He was"--and here, with affection all could see,
the glittering eyes seemed to soften as they turned on Harris, sitting
pale, silent and observant--"the enemy of this my brother and my
friend. I would no longer go within the soldier lines. In spite of what
I had done the white-haired chief ordered his soldiers to kill or take
me prisoner. They could not find me, but I tried to warn my brother
there was trouble--they would kill _his_ brother chief, then there
would be fearful war, but my brother was wounded still and could not
come.

"Then the young stranger chief was lured out again by Sanchez--his
people and mine. They swear to me they did not kill him--that the white
man, Case, did that. He, too, hated him. But Sanchez lied to me. He
promised to take back the pistol my people found the night I shot his
horse, and he never did, nor messages I sent. So I know not who fired
the shot, who clubbed him, _but_ Sanchez had that pistol--Sanchez lied
to me! I was not that night so near as the Picacho, and when the
soldiers came to find me I went farther, with two of my people. We met
the Great Chief's couriers. We m