LITMIR.BIZ

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little black dog lifted his head suddenly and growled, and the footsteps came to a sudden stop quite near the rock.

      “It is you?” asked a cautious voice with the unmistakable Mexican tone and soft, slurring accent, “speak me what yoh name.”

      “Ramon comes?” Annie asked him quietly, and the footsteps came swiftly nearer until his form was silhouetted by the rock.

      “Sh-sh—yoh not spik dat name,” he whispered. “Luis Rojas me. I come for breeng yoh. No can come, yoh man. No spik name—som’bodys maybe hears.”

      Annie-Many-Ponies rose and stood peering at him through the dark. “What’s wrong?” she asked abruptly, borrowing the curt phrase from Luck Lindsay. “Why I not speak name? Why—some body—?” she laid ironical stress upon the word—“not come? What business you got, Luis Rojas?”

      “No—don’ spik names, me!” The figure was seen to throw out an imploring hand. “Moch troubles, yoh bet! Yoh come now—somebodys she wait in dam-hurry!”

      Annie-Many-Ponies, with her fingers still closed upon the bone handle of her sharp-edged knife, thought swiftly. Wariness had been born into her blood—therefore she could understand and meet halfway the wariness of another. Perhaps Wagalexa Conka had suspected that she was going with Ramon; Wagalexa Conka was very keen, and his anger blazed hot as pitch-pine flame. Perhaps Ramon feared Wagalexa Conka—as she, too, feared him. She was not afraid—she would go to Ramon.

      She stepped away from the rock and took the black horse by its dropped bridle-reins and followed Luis Rojas up the dim path that wound through trees and rocks until it dropped into a little ravine that was chocked with brush, so that Annie-Many-Ponies had to put the stiff branches aside with her hand lest they scratch her face as she passed.

      Luis went swiftly along the path, as though his haste was great; but he went stealthily as well, and she knew that he had some unknown cause for secrecy. She wondered a little at this. Had Wagalexa Conka discovered where she and Ramon were to meet? But how could he discover that which had been spoken but once, and then in the quiet loneliness of that place far back on the mesa? Wagalexa Conka bad not been within three miles of that place, as Annie-Many-Ponies knew well. How then did he know? For he must have followed, since Ramon dared not come to the place he had named for their meeting.

      Dawn came while they were still following the little, brush-choked ravine with its faint pathway up the middle of it, made by cattle or sheep or goats, perhaps all three. Luis hurried along, stopping now and then and holding up a hand for silence so that he might listen. Fast as he went, Annie-Many-Ponies kept within two long steps of his heels, her plaid shawl drawn smoothly over her black head and folded together under her chin. Her mouth was set in a straight line, and her chin had the square firmness of the Indian. Luis, looking back at her curiously, could not even guess at her thoughts, but he thought her too calm and cold for his effervescent nature—though he would have liked to tell her that she was beautiful. He did not, because he was afraid of Ramon.

      “Poco tiempo, come to his camp, Ramon,” he said when the sun was peering over the high shoulder of a ridge; and he spoke in a hushed tone, as if he feared that someone might overhear him.

      “You ‘fraid Wagalexa Conka, he come?” Annie-Many-Ponies asked abruptly, looking at him full.

      Luis did not understand her, so he lifted his shoulders in the Mexican gesture which may mean much or nothing. “Quien sabe?” he muttered vaguely and went on. Annie-Many-Ponies did not know what he meant, but she guessed that he did not want to be questioned upon the subject; so she readjusted the shawl that had slipped from her head and went on silently, two long steps behind him.

      In a little he turned from the ravine, which was becoming more open and not quite so deep. They scrambled over boulders which the horse must negotiate carefully to avoid a broken leg, and then they were in another little ravine, walled round with rocks and high, brushy slopes. Luis went a little way, stopped beside a huge, jutting boulder and gave a little exclamation of dismay.

      “No more here, Ramon,” he said, staring down at the faintly smoking embers of a little fire. “She’s go som’ place, I don’t know, me.”

      The slim right hand of Annie-Many-Ponies went instinctively to her bosom and to what lay hidden there. But she waited, looking from the little campfire that was now almost dead, to Luis whom she suspected of treachery. Luis glanced up at her apologetically, caught something of menace in that unwinking, glittering stare, and began hastily searching here and there for some sign that would enlighten him further.

      “She’s here when I go, Ramon,” he explained deprecatingly. “I don’ un’stan’, me. She’s tell me go breeng yoh thees place. She’s say I mus’ huree w’ile dark she’s las’. I’m sure s’prised, me!” Luis was a slender young man with a thin, patrician face that had certain picture values for Luck, but which greatly belied his lawless nature. Until he stood by the rock where she had waited for Ramon, Annie-Many-Ponies had never spoken to him. She did not know him, therefore she did not trust him—and she looked her distrust.

      Luis turned from her after another hasty glance, and began searching for some sign of Ramon. Presently, in a tiny cleft near the top of the boulder, his black eyes spied a folded paper—two folded papers, as he discovered when he reached up eagerly and pulled them out.

      “She’s write letter, Ramon,” he cried with a certain furtive excitement. “Thees for yoh.” And he smiled while he gave her a folded note with “Ana” scrawled hastily across the face of it.

      Annie-Many-Ponies extended her left hand for it, and backed the few steps away from him which would insure her safety against a sudden attack, before she opened the paper and read:

      “Querida mia, you go with Luis. Hes all rite you trus him. He bring you where i am. i lov you. Ramon”

      She read it twice and placed the note in her bosom—next the knife—and looked at Luis, the glitter gone from her eyes. She smiled a little. “I awful hongry,” she said in her soft voice, and it was the second sentence she had spoken since they left the rock where she had waited.

      Luis smiled back, relief showing in the uplift of his lips and the lightening of his eyes. “She’s cache grob, Ramon,” he said. “She’s go som’ place and we go also. She’s wait for us. Dam-long way—tree days, I theenk me.”

      “You find that grub,” said Annie-Many-Ponies, letting her hand drop away from the knife. “I awful hongry. We eat, then we go.”

      “No—no go till dark comes! We walk in night—so somebody don’ see!”

      Annie-Many-Ponies looked at him sharply, saw that he was very much in earnest, and turned away to gather some dry twigs for the fire. Up the canon a horse whinnied inquiringly, and Luis, hastening furtively that way, found the horse he had ridden into this place with Ramon. With the problem of finding provender for the two animals, he had enough to occupy him until Annie-Many-Ponies, from the coarse food he brought her, cooked a crude breakfast.

      Truly, this was not what she had dreamed the morning would be like—she who had been worried over the question of whether Ramon would let her confess to the priest before they were married! Here was no priest and no Ramon, even; but a keen-eyed young Mexican whom she scarcely knew at all; and a mysterious hiding-out in closed-in canons until dark before they might follow Ramon who loved her. Annie-Many-Ponies did not understand why all this stealthiness should be necessary, for she knew that proof of her honorable marriage would end Luck’s pursuit—supposing he did pursue—even though his anger might live always for her. She did not understand; and when an Indian confronts a situation which puzzles him, you may be very sure that same Indian is going to be very, very cautious. Annie-Many-Ponies was Indian to the middle of her bone.

Chapter XVII. Applehead Shows the Stuff he is Made of

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      Lite Avery, turning to look back as they galloped

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