orow, sabe?
Colorow mebbe so come back meet 'em white man. Colorow then heap mad, no
get 'em flour, bacon. Colorow, Antelope, Bennett all heap hungry. White
man no got 'em big gun; little gun not much good, mebbe so?" and
Yamanatz lapsed into silence.

There was no need to ask anything more. The cunning old warrior knew
only too well the fate that awaited Jack if Colorow and his ugly
renegade Indians should fail to get through to Sulphur Springs and had
to return empty handed to Rock Creek. Old Joe knew, too, that his own
safety would be problematical, even with his years of familiarity with
the whole Ute tribe. The gloom that settled over them was full of
foreboding. Each one was striving to hatch out a plan that would dispel
the dangers now besetting Jack's safety.

It was useless to think of old Joe attempting the trip with Jack, and
Yamanatz made no sign of being willing to assume the role of guide. At
last as Jack was about to abandon all hope, Chiquita arose and, crossing
over to where Jack was, bid him to be of good cheer.

Pointing to the stars, she said: "What Yamanatz has said is in the sky.
The Great Spirit who watches over the Indian maiden has told Chiquita to
lead the white man that he may go to meet his white brothers. Chiquita
knows the trail. Chiquita is not afraid. It is but one moon since
Chiquita's pony did paw the deep snow and carry Chiquita on the big
divide to meet the Ute braves coming from the Grand River. One sleep,
and the white man Jack must get his ponies, and two sleeps before the
sun shall show on top of the high mountain. Chiquita will be ready at
the tepee of Yamanatz to lead the white man over big divide, where make
'em one camp for Chiquita and one camp for white man Jack. One sleep and
Chiquita say adios to white man, then come back Indian village on same
day. White man go to his white brothers on Troublesome, then go long way
Denver City."

Here was a dilemma that confronted Jack, even more embarrassing than
anything yet thrown in his path--the would-be leader of the select four
hundred at White River acting as guide over a wild country, to say
nothing of a one-night camp among the willows at the edge of some little
creek. It must have amused him to a great degree, for, serious as it
was, a smile lurked around the corners of his mouth, causing Chiquita to
become a little disdainful, as an Indian is very sensitive to ridicule,
but Jack quickly relinquished the comical side of the