ufficient time to make all sorts of
explanations and promises, and Rita's mind became so full of dreams of
her new life that she could easily give up the old one.

Ni-ha-be had never seen so much of the pale-faces before, and Rita
tried again and again to persuade her to change her mind, but, on the
very last morning of all, she resolutely responded,

"No, Rita, you are all pale-face. All over. Head and heart both
belong with white friends. Feel happy. Ni-ha-be only little Indian
girl here. Out there, on plains, among mountains, Ni-ha-be is the
daughter of a great chief. She is an Apache."

No doubt she was right, but she and Rita had a good long cry over it
then, and probably more than one afterward. As for Dolores, she came
to the fort to say good-bye, but neither Many Bears nor Red Wolf came
with her.

"The heart of the great chief is sore," she said, "and he mourns for
his pale-face daughter. Not want to speak."

Rita sent many kindly messages, even to Red Wolf, glad as she was that
he had failed to make a bargain for her.

Out from the gates of the fort that morning wheeled the cavalry escort
of the waiting "train" of supply wagons and traders' "outfits," and
behind the cavalry rode a little group of three. The ladies of the
garrison, with the major and the rest, had said their last farewells at
the gates, and the homeward journey had begun.

"Steve," said Murray, "are you a Lipan or an Apache to-day?"

"Seems to me that is all ever so long ago. I am white again."

"So am I. At one time I had little hope that I ever should be. I
never would if I had not found Rita. Oh, my daughter!"

"Father! Father, see--there she is! Oh, Ni-ha-be!"

A swift and beautiful mustang was bounding toward them across the plain
from a sort of cloud of wild-looking figures at a little distance, and
on its back was a form they all knew well. Nearer it came and nearer.

"She wants to say good-bye again."

Nearer still, so near that they could almost look into her dark,
streaming eyes, and Rita held out her arms beseechingly; but at that
moment the mustang was suddenly reined in and wheeled to the
right-about, while Ni-ha-be clasped both hands upon her face.

"Ni-ha-be! Oh, Ni-ha-be!"

But she was gone like the wind, and did not come again.

"There, Rita," said her father. "It is all for the best. All your
Indian life is gone, like mine and Steve's. We have something better
before us now."

***END