Over his shoulder Shoz-Dijiji spoke to her. "Take my six-shooter," he said, "and fire it at them. Mebbyso they no come so fast."
Wrenching the heavy weapon from its holster the girl turned about as far as she could and fired back at the leading pursuer. The bullet must have come close to him, for he reined in a little, increasing the distance between them. A moment later she fired again, and one of the Chi-e-a-hen threw up both hands arid toppled from his pony. With renewed yells the remaining three opened fire more rapidly, but they kept a greater distance.
"I got one," she said to Shoz-Dijiji.
The brave little pinto, straining every nerve, fought courageously on under his double burden, but as the gradual ascent toward the mountains became a more pronounced upward gradient the pace told on him, and Shoz-Dijiji knew that though he might run until his brave heart burst he could not escape even inferior ponies that carried but a single rider.
Ahead was a low outcropping of uptilted sedimentary rock, and toward this the Be-don-ko-he reined his war pony while behind the three clung like pursuing wolves, occasionally firing a shot which was often returned by the girl. Through a gap in the rocky escarpment rode Shoz-Dijiji. He wheeled quickly to one side and brought Nejeunee to his haunches, at the same instant throwing a leg over the pony's withers, and as he touched the ground dragging Wichita down beside him.
"Lie down!" he commanded, pointing toward the natural breastwork, and then he turned toward Nejeunee and spoke an Apache word in his ear. Instantly the animal went down upon his knees and rolled over on his side; the three were effectually hidden from the fire of the enemy.
Throwing himself down beside the girl Shoz-Dijiji raised his carbine above the top of the ledge and took careful aim at the fore-most of the Chi-e-a-hen. At the shot the fellow dropped. Again Shoz-Dijiji fired and the mount of another stumbled and fell. That was enough for the Chi-e-a-hen. Running toward his remaining companion, the warrior who had been dismounted leaped to a seat behind him and the two wheeled and scurried away while the bullets of the Be-don-ko-he whistled about their ears. For a while Shoz-Dijiji watched the retreating enemy in silence, or scanned the country closely in all directions. Presently he turned toward the girl.
"They come back," he said.
"What makes you think so?"
"I know. They come back with many braves. They want kill Shoz-Dijiji. They want you."
"When they are out of sight I can ride for the post," she suggested; but she wondered if he would let her, after all.
"No," he replied. "Apaches everywhere." He waved his hand broadly from west to east and back again. "Apaches on the war trail. You no reach post. Shoz-Dijiji no reach post, mebby. Shoz-Dijiji take you to his own people--to the Be-don-ko-he. You be safe there with Sons-ee-ah-ray and Geronimo."
To Shoz-Dijiji no promise could have seemed more reassuring, no name so fraught with assurance of protection than that of the kind old man who had always defended him, the powerful chief whose very name was a bulwark of safety for any friend. To Wichita Billings the suggestion awakened naught but fear and the name only horror. Geronimo! The fiend, the red devil, murderer, torturer, scourge of two nations! She trembled at the mere thought of him.
"No!" she cried. "Let me go back to the post,--to my own people."
"You would never reach them. Tomorrow we can be with the Be-don-ko-he. They are not upon the war trail. When the fighting is over I will take you back to your people." "I am afraid," she said. "Afraid of what?"
"Afraid of Geronimo."
He looked at her in surprise. "You will be safe with him," he said. "Geronimo is my father."
She looked up at him aghast. God have mercy upon her--alone with the son of Geronimo!
"Come!" said Shoz-Dijiji. "Pretty soon they come back. No find us here. Mebbyso they follow. We go now they no catch. We stay, they catch, Come!"
He had mounted Nejeunee and was waiting for her. Tall and straight he sat his war pony. The war band about his brow confined his black hair; across his face, from ear to ear, spread a wide band of vermilion; a single necklace of silver and turquoise encircled his neck and lay upon his deep chest; beaded war moccasins encased his feet and legs.
From the painted face two steady eyes regarded her intently, searchingly, conveying the impression that they saw beneath the surface, deep into the secret recesses of her mind. They were not savage eyes now, not the eyes that she had seen flash upon Tats-ah-das-ay-go, but, rather, steadfast, friendly eyes that were, at the same time, commanding eyes. They waited, but there was no inquiry in them as to whether she would obey; that, they took for granted.
Still the girl hesitated. What was she to do? As deeply rooted within her as is man's natural repugnance for snakes was her fear and distrust of all Apaches, yet Shoz-Dijiji seemed different. Three times he had had her in his power and had offered her no harm; twice he had saved her from harm at the hands of others, this last time at the cost of the lives of four of his fellows, subjecting himself to what future dangers she could only too well conjecture, aware as she was of the Indian's penchant for vengeance. Had it been a matter only of trusting herself to him alone, perhaps she would not have hesitated; but there were the other members of his tribe--the squaws. She had heard stories of the cruelties of the squaws toward white women--and Geronimo! She recalled every hideous atrocity that had ever been laid at the door of this terrible old man, and she shrank from the thought of permitting herself to be taken to his hidden den and delivered into his cruel and, bloody hands. Shoz-Dijiji had ridden close to her side. "You come!" he said, and reaching down he swept her up into his arms and headed Nejeunee into the hills. Thus was the decision made for her.
He held her so easily, as though she had been a little child. He was so strong, and his voice so commanding, without harshness, that she felt almost reassured even with the coincident realization that she was being carried off by force.
"I know why you afraid," said Shoz-Dijiji presently. "You hear bad stories about Apaches. You hear much talk, bad talk; but always from mouth of enemies of Apache. You wait. You see how Apache treat friend. You no be afraid. You savvy?"
Wichita Billings had thought that she knew this part of Arizona rather well, but the Apache took her to a place, far back in what seemed utterly arid mountains, that she had never dreamed of. It was a tiny, well-hidden canyon; but it boasted that most precious of treasures, water; and there were a few trees and a little grass for Nejeunee. The water seeped out from between rocks, wet the ground for a few feet from its source and disappeared again into the sand and gravel of a little wash; but after Shoz-Dijiji scooped out a hole with his hands it quickly filled and there was ample water for them all, even thirsty Nejeunee, though it was a long time before he got his fill.
After they had drunk Shoz-Dijiji hobbled Nejeunee, lest he stray too far, then he removed his cartridge belt and revolver and laid them beside the girl, together with his carbine. "You stay here," he said. "Mebbyso Shoz-Dijiji catchem rabbit. Go see," and unslinging his bow he walked away. He went up the little canyon and soon disappeared.