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 great many more ponies than he knew what to do with. fifty of them were promptly secured and turned over to many bears. even while that was being cared for murray sought and obtained two or three important interviews. one was with the united states army officer in command of the post, and from him he received the promise of all the help he might need.

"still," said the gallant major, "it will keep the indians in better humor if you pay as you agreed."

"i mean to exactly."

"it's a little the biggest romance i ever heard of. i'll tell you what: you'd better have the final transfer made in my presence."

"thank you heartily. that will be just the thing."

another of murray's calls was upon the "post barber," the next upon the traders in boots, hats, clothing etc.; and when he finished the last one, steve harrison, who had accompanied him, making some purchases on his own account, exclaimed,

"why, murray, you don't look as if you were over forty. the major won't know you, nor the chief either."

"i was almost ashamed to have my hair dyed. i did it partly for rita's sake. so she can remember me better. partly, i must say, so my english friends will know me."

rita turned pale when she saw him, and did not say a word; but ni-ha-be's face put on an expression of great disgust both for him and steve.

"ugh! pale-face! young brave better wear blanket and look like a man!"

"that's it, ni-ha-be," said murray. "he looks like a white man now, not like a red one."

many bears also took a look at send warning and knotted cord in their new rig, and it was not half an hour before he was strutting around in an old blue army uniform coat and a high-crowned hat.

the apaches of his band declared the "talking leaves" to have told the truth; for, although there was not much of a "big talk" or treaty, there were a good many presents from their "great father at washington," and they were in excellent humor.

many bears knew that the price to be paid for rita was fast being got together, and he may have cared very little whether it should be called a dowry or a ransom, for he had as yet no idea but what she and her new father and steve would go back with him to their lodge in his camp.

the romantic truth, however, had been told as a great secret to the major's wife, and she told it to the other ladies at the fort, and they all went wild together over a grand new wardrobe for rita. never had any daughter of the apaches owned a tenth of the varied material the enthusiastic ladies prepared in less than twenty-four hours after they had their first glimpse of rita.

"we must make quite an affair," said the major to murray, "of your making the payment. then they will not think of trying to back out."

"there would be danger to rita, i fear, if i were to make the truth known publicly too soon."

"of course there would. are all your presents ready?"

"they will be to-morrow."

"then bring them to the parade ground in the morning. i will have everything fixed for the occasion."

major norris was an experienced "indian fighter," and just the man to be in command of such a post, for the reason that he had learned how much cheaper it was to have the red men as friends than as enemies. he sent word at once to many bears and a number of other "great chiefs" that send warning was also a "great chief" and that proper honor must be shown him by his pale-face friends on so great an occasion. nothing could have better suited the pride of many bears, but both dolores and ni-ha-be bitterly resented the proposal of the white ladles to prepare rita's toilet. they would surely have kept her to themselves if it had not been for the tact and good-sense of the major's wife, to whom murray explained the difficulty.

"nonsense! tell them all the ladies of the great chief's family are invited to come to my room in the morning. tell them it will be bad manners if they do not come."

that was enough. ni-ha-be felt that the daughter of a great chief ought not to be impolite, and she and dolores came with rita in the morning. the white ladies preserved their gravity, but they all said afterward that it was great fun.

somehow or other, rita seemed to know the uses of her new wardrobe very well, except that hooks-and-eyes were a sort of mystery, and she had no skill in the handling of pins. dolores was made happy by the presentation of a wonderful scarf of brilliant colors, and ni-ha-be consented to "try on" everything that was put before her.

that was as far as they could persuade her to go, however, for she took off bonnet and dress, stockings and shoes, resuming her own pretty and neatly fitting garments. all she would keep on was a pair of bracelets sent to her by knotted cord. they were hardly ready when they heard the band begin to play on the parade-ground, and word came from the major to hurry.

it was quite a procession that marched out of the fort barracks with rita, and the apache warriors and squaws who were looking on felt that a high compliment was paid to their nation. there were the troops drawn up in splendid array, with flags, and cannon, and music, and the "white chiefs" in their bright uniforms.

there were the great warriors of several "bands" of the apaches in their paint and feathers. there were the beautiful white squaws in their strange dresses. many bears had been looking very intently at a collection of things just in front of where major norris was standing, with murray and steve harrison. ponies, blankets, guns, all, and more than all, that had been agreed upon. no chief who was looking on could say he had ever received more than that for one of his daughters, and the heart of many bears swelled proudly within him. there was a cloud upon his haughty face, however, and another on that of red wolf, who was standing at his side.

the clouds did not disperse when they searched the approaching party of ladies with their eyes for rita. rita! could that be the adopted daughter of many bears walking there behind mrs. norris and mother dolores? the beautiful young lady whose face was so very pale, and who was dressed so splendidly? they had never before seen her look anything like that. the band played, the soldiers "presented arms," the officers touched their hats, and murray stepped forward and held out his right hand to many bears, pointing with his left to the ponies and things.

"there they are. send warning has kept his word. rita is mine."

"ugh! good. presents all right. young squaw is the daughter of send warning."

he shook hands heartily as he said it; but many bears had something more on his mind, and was about to open his mouth, only waiting for the music to stop. he was farther prevented by a sign to his father and a word in apache from red wolf.

"listen!" exclaimed many bears. "send warning see ponies? see all presents?"

"yes, i see them."

"all mine now. give all to red wolf. young brave want rita. give all ponies for her. all presents. all except gun. great chief keep them. what does send warning say?"

"not want pony. not want anything. want daughter. keep her."

"red wolf is young. come again by-and-by. bring more pony."

"listen," said murray, in his turn. "i tell you a big truth. rita is my own daughter. when you burn ranch in mexico, many summers ago, burn mine, take horses, cattle, mules, take away little girl, all that was mine. got little girl back now. apaches all good friends of mine."

"send warning not come back to lodge?"

"not now. go to my own people for a while. show them my daughter. say found her again."

"ugh! send warning is a wise man. cunning chief. throw dust in the eyes of the apaches."

it was plain that the chief was troubled in his mind. he hardly knew whether to be angry or not, but there was no reasonable objection to murray's doing as he pleased with his own daughter, after she had cost him so many ponies.

murray spoke again.

"send warning say what great chief do. let ni-ha-be come with rita to pale-face lodges. stay awhile. learn to hear talking leaves. then come back to her friends. what say?"

the chief pondered a moment, but ni-ha-be had heard and understood, and a scared look arose in her face.

"rita! rita! you are going away? you will not be an apache girl any more?"

"oh, ni-ha-be, come with me!"

their arms were around each other, and they were both weeping, but ni-ha-be's mind was made up instantly.

"no. you are born white. you will go with your father. i am an apache, and i will go with my father."

many bears was listening.

"send warning hear what young squaw say? all apaches say good. she will stay with her own people."

ni-ha-be consented, nevertheless, to remain with rita at the post head-quarters as long as her friends were camped close by.

murray and steve were anxious to begin their return to civilization, but it would be several days before a "train" would go with an escort, and they did not care to run any farther risks.

so the "farewell" was spread over sufficient 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."

the end