The day the village was moved from the bank of the river was in many ways unsatisfactory to Ni-ha-be, and so was the next and the next. Nothing went to suit her, whether in camp or on the march.

Her father was continually having grave talks with Send Warning. Red Wolf seemed to feel that he could not even ride out after deer or buffalo unless he was accompanied by Knotted Cord. He declared that no Apache "young brave" could surpass the pale-face boy in handling the lance, and that he could even make a good use of a bow and arrows.

But all that was nothing to the remarkable conduct of Dolores. Ni-ha-be was sure Rita had never before received such a degree of attention and respect from the great cook. She had even seen her adopted sister helped to broiled venison again and again before a morsel had been handed to her, the born heiress of the great chief. Her keen black eyes put on a continual watchfulness and they soon detected other strange things, and so did her quick, suspicious ears. She saw Rita look in the face of Send Warning as if she had known him all her life, and she was sure she had heard both him and Knotted Cord speak to her in the detested tongue of their race.

It was all the work of those miserable talking leaves, and they were therefore the worst kind of "bad medicine." She would have burnt them up if she could, but now they were no longer within her reach. Rita had one, but Send Warning and his young friend had taken possession of the others, and were "listening to them" at every opportunity.

Steve said to Murray that the reading of those magazines made him feel as if he were half-way home again.

"We're anything but that, Steve. What do you think old Many Bears proposed this morning?"

"I can't guess."

"Wants to adopt us into his band. Have us marry Indian wives, and settle down."

"Tell him I'm too young. Can't take care of a squaw."

"So I did, and he answered, 'Ugh! Buy squaw some time. No hurry. Young brave good.'"

"Tell him you don't want a wife, but you'd like to buy a daughter, and keep her for me when I get old enough."

"Steve!"

"Now, Murray, I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended. It's an idea. It's a good one. It would sound right in Indian ears. I will think about it. I've been an Indian so long I hardly know how it would sound to my friends in England."

"They wouldn't care what you did, I guess, to get Rita out of the hands of the Apaches."

"Of course they would not."

Still, it was a delicate piece of business, and Murray went at it very carefully.

That afternoon, as they were riding along side by side, Many Bears again remarked to him that he would be better off among his Apache friends than anywhere else.

"Have lodge. Have squaw. Be chief a little. Be great brave."

"Got good lodge now."

"Yes, but lodge empty. Want squaw."

"Send Warning is old. No child. Rather have daughter. He has taken the Knotted Cord for a son. All he needs now is a young squaw. Keep her for young brave by-and-by."

"Ugh! Good! All Apaches say Send Warning is wise. Know what he likes best. Buy young squaw. Braves get killed in fight. Plenty young squaw have no father. All glad to come into good lodge. Have plenty meat. Plenty nice blanket. Old warrior make 'em behave, too. Good for squaw."

The notion of Many Bears was one that fitted him very well, for as chief of the band it was his duty to keep an eye upon the fortunes of its "orphans." There could be no better "asylum" for one of them than the lodge of a wise old brave like Send Warning.

"No," said Murray, after a moment of silence. "Only one young squaw in camp for me. The great chief must let me have Rita."

Many Bears was as nearly startled as an Indian chief could be by the sudden and daring proposal, although it was not at all the same as if Murray had spoken of Ni-ha-be. He pondered a moment, and then shook his head.

"Rita will be the squaw of a great chief. He will bring me many ponies. Heap give."

Any chief in want of a wife would expect to bring rich presents, all the richer if he were to come for the daughter of a great man like Many Bears. Something far beyond the power of a seemingly poor warrior like Send Warning.

"Good," said Murray, calmly. "Heap give. Suppose you say what you think? How big heap?"

There was a grim smile on the face of Many Bears as he turned and looked in the face of his friend. "How much? Ugh! Suppose big chief bring fifty ponies?"

"Good," said Murray. "Go on."

"Fifty new blanket?"

"Good. All right."

"Five new gun. Fifty knife. Much heap powder. Big roll cloth for squaws. What say?"

"Good. All right."

"Much pistol, too. Suppose chief think of something more?"

"All right. Send Warning give it all."

"Ugh! No got 'em. No find 'em. Send Warning laugh at chief. Bad."

There was an offended look in his eyes, but Murray laid his hand on his arm, saying,

"Listen! Send Warning is white. He is a great man among his own people. He can give heap to chief. Can't find all here. Out on plains. Up in mountains. Go to fort. See blue-coat chief. See traders. Get all he wants there."

"Ugh! Good. Make talking leaf. Send it to fort. Young brave carry it. All things come back."

Many Bears had seen something of that kind done, and had never ceased envying the white man's power to obtain presents by means of a little piece of paper. Murray replied,

"No. Send Warning in no hurry. Wait till we get to fort."

That would not be for many days; and the more Many Bears thought of all the good things he had mentioned the more anxious he became to see his adopted daughter set up in a lodge of her own. Or at least under the care of a warrior who was willing to give such a "big heap" for the privilege. He "thought of something more" almost every hour from that time on, but his demands were mainly for items of moderate cost, and he did not feel at liberty to mention any larger number of ponies or blankets.

"We can buy the blankets easily enough," said Steve, when he was told the terms of the bargain, "but what about the ponies?"

"Cheaper than blankets, my boy. I've seen droves of them going for ten dollars a head. We won't have to give more than twenty. As to the other things there are always traders around the posts."

They had already counted the contents of their little buckskin bags, and Steve had been surprised to find how much money there was in little more than twenty pounds of gold coin. He had found, indeed, a strange pleasure in counting it over and over, while Murray told him of his beautiful home away across the sea.

"You'll be a rich man there."

"Have three or four times as much as this every year. You must come and visit with me, Steve, as soon as you've seen your own people."

"I dare not think much of them, Murray. I can't talk about them. It will be time enough when I learn if any of them are yet alive."

"Your father and mother?"

"Don't, Murray. I'd rather talk about Rita and our plans here."

Poor Ni-ha-be! It was not many days after that before Mother Dolores one morning called her into the lodge.

"Ni-ha-be, Rita is going to the lodge of Send Warning!"

"She shall not! He is to old. His head is white. He is ugly. I will not let her go. He is a pale-face."

"So is she."

"She is an Apache now. She is my sister. He shall not have her."

"She is to be his daughter."

"Ugh! Then he will take her away."

"No. He will stay with us."

"Will the Knotted Cord stay?"

"Of course. He is to be the son of Send Warning."

"Ugh! Good. He is young. He is poor. He has no ponies. He will never have any. Send Warning is poor. How will he pay for Rita?"

"He is rich among his people. He is a great chief."

Ni-ha-be sprung out of the lodge and looked hurriedly around for her adopted sister. Rita had never imagined till that moment how much she was loved by the earnest-hearted Apache girl. Ni-ha-be's arms were twining around her neck, and she was weeping bitterly as she exclaimed,

"He shall not take you away from me. You are not a pale-face any more. You are Apache!"

Rita could not help crying, for the idea of the change which was coming to her was getting more and more difficult to deal with.

They were interrupted by the stately approach of old Many Bears.

"Young squaws foolish. Know nothing. Must laugh. Go to lodge now. Three days go to fort."

Three days? Was it so near? The two friends were glad to go into the lodge, as they were told, and cry it out together.

The nearest United States post at which there were likely to be any traders was still a "two days' journey" to the northward, but Many Bears had actually now received a message from his tribe that there would be "heap presents" for those who should come in time to get them, and he was more than ever anxious to discover if Send Warning had been telling him the truth. His first proposition had been, as before, that Murray should send for what he wanted, and have it brought to the Apache camp, but that had been declared out of the question.

"Ugh! Good. Then Send Warning go with chief. Buy pony. Buy heap other things. Come back and take young squaw to lodge."

"No. The great chief can bring young squaw with him. Send Warning take then what he pay for. Give pony, take young squaw."

After some little argument this was agreed to, but there were almost as serious objections made to Steve Harrison's joining the party who were to visit the post.

"Tell them I'm going anyhow," said Steve to Red Wolf, "whether they like it or not. You come too. I'll buy you a new rifle. Best there is at the fort."

That settled the matter, but Steve did not imagine how much difficulty he would have in getting hold of a rifle for an Indian. He was at last, as it turned out, compelled to keep his word by giving Red Wolf his own, and then buying another for himself from one of the traders.

But Dolores and Ni-ha-be were to be of the party. The first because Many Bears would need to "eat great heap," and the second because she had made up her mind to it very positively and would not give the matter up.

"Rita," said Murray, in a low voice, the morning they rode out of the village-camp, "take a good look back. That's the last you will ever see of it."

Then for the first rime it came into the mind of Rita that she loved not only Ni-ha-be, but all those wild, dark, savage people among whom she had been living ever since she was a little girl. She forgot for the moment how she came among them. She only remembered that the village, with all its wandering, had been her home.

"Father, will I never see any of them again?"

"I think not, Rita."

"You will let me send them presents, will you not?"

"As many as you please, Rita."

"Then I will make the whole village happy some day."

The ride to the fort was a somewhat hurried one, for Many Bears was in some fear lest all the presents should be given out before he could come for his share, and Murray was half in dread lest he should not be able to keep his own promise to the chief.

His first difficulty was removed almost at once, on his arrival, by his finding a trader who had bought a............