"Go into lodge with young squaw. Knotted Cord stay and talk with
Apache chief. Nobody come into lodge. Take a little time. Then tell
what hear."

It was an unusual request, but there could be no objection, in view of
the fact that there was "great medicine" to be looked into. An Indian
conjurer always requires the absence of all observers for the
performance of his most important juggling. It was at once decided by
the chief that Send Warning should have his way.

Rita listened, pale and serious, while Ni-ha-be looked on in jealous
amazement.

"I am an Apache girl? Why can he not teach me to hear the talking
leaves?"

No doubt he could have done so if she would have given him plenty of
time, and been willing to begin with A B C, as Rita had done long years
before.

How should all that ABC business have come back to Rita as it did, when
she found herself alone in her lodge with that white-headed old
pale-face warrior?

She thought she had never before seen so kind and good a face, and she
wondered that it did not seem so very old, after all, now it was so
near.

"I will sit down, Rita, my dear. Sit down too. You are too tall now
to stand up."

Not a human eye was looking upon them, but Rita had suddenly covered
her face with her hands.

"Speak," she said, earnestly; "I remember better when I do not see."

She was talking English, just as he had done, only more slowly, and
almost as if it hurt her.

"I will read the first word, dear. Then you may spell it. M-i-n-e,
mine. That means a gold-mine, like ours, dear. Spell it, Rita, my
darling."

"Our mine? Darling? Oh, if I could see my father!"

Murray sprung to his feet as if he were a boy. His mouth opened and
closed as if he were keeping back a great shout, and the tears came
pouring down over his cheeks.

"Rita! Rita! My dear little daughter! Here I am!"

"Father!"

His arms were around her now, and he was kissing her almost frantically.

Slowly she opened her eyes. "I know it is you when you speak, and when
my eyes are shut. When I open them you are very old. My father was
young and handsome. His hair was not white."

"Rita, darling, it has been just as white as it is now ever since the
morning after I came home and found that the Apaches had carried you
away. They killed your mother, and I heard that they had killed you
too. I have been an old man ever since, but I think I shall grow young
again now."

Time was pr