ce seen pursued by some
hunters, with its great soft eyes transformed into staring pools of
terror and its soft sides quivering as though its heart were breaking in
its final effort to evade its pursuers.

"Oh, what is it?" Frieda cried, with quick sympathy.

The girl looked at her hopelessly and ran on. But Frieda now understood.
An old Indian woman armed with a stick, trotted out of the screen of the
trees. She was running more slowly but her face was terrifying. Her
small black eyes were red with anger and she waved a long arm at the
girl.

[Illustration: FRIEDA FLUNG HERSELF VALIANTLY IN THE PATH OF THE INDIAN
WOMAN.]

Frieda wanted to help, but what could she do? "Jean! Jack!" she called
again. She could see that the hunted girl had no chance of escaping. She
was nearly dropping with exhaustion. There was no place for her to hide,
for the plain stretched on, covered only with grass and low sage brush.

Frieda flung herself valiantly in the path of the Indian woman. She was
used to the Indians. Ever since she could remember she had been making
trips to their villages, and a number of half-breed Indian boys had
worked on their ranch. But the girl had never seen one of them so
furiously angry as this old squaw. She was frightened and at the same
time wanted to laugh. The woman was so fat and in such a temper, "that
she shook when she ran, like a bowlful of jelly," Frieda thought to
herself.

The squaw did not lift her beady, black eyes until she was within a few
feet of Frieda.

"Ugh," she grunted. "Git out."

She tried to push Frieda away with her stick, but Frieda stretched
out both arms and danced up and down in front of the old woman, until
she did not know which way to turn.

Old Laska had not run all this distance and gotten out of breath to be
stopped by a pale-face chit of a child. She struck Frieda with her
staff. Frieda gave a sudden, sharp cry and looked quickly around. She
saw that the Indian girl had fallen only a short distance beyond them
and was vainly struggling to get on her feet again. Frieda shut her
eyes; in another moment she knew that she would hear cruel blows being
rained down on the defenseless girl by the furious old woman.

At this moment, a golden brown head, wearing a soft, round Mexican hat,
appeared above an opening in the gorge. "Frieda, what's the matter?
Didn't we hear you call?" Jack's voice rang out unexpectedly. She jumped
lightly from the rocks to the ground and ran