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I slid into their embrace and snuggled my head against his broad shoulder, listening to all that was said. Three months later the little boy had become a little man, and my cuddling days had given place to the self-reliance of the fearless youngster of the trail. "Why do you make this trip now, Esmond?" Jondo asked at length, looking straight into my uncle's face.
There were eight of us: Clarenden, the merchant; Jondo, the big plainsman; Bill Banney, whom love of adventure had lured from the blue grass of Kentucky to the prairie-grass of the West; Rex Krane, the devil-may-care invalid from Boston; and the quartet of us in the "baby cab," as Beverly had christened the family wagon.
"That Indian in the Plaza to-day is Santan, or Satan, dead sure; and you'd never guess, but he's the same redskin Apache red that was out at Agua Fria that time we were there long ago. The very same little sneak! He followed us clear to Bent's Fort. He put up a good story to Jondo, but I'll bet he was somebody's tool. You know what a critter he was there. But listen now!
"Would Father Josef be party to such a transaction?" I asked, angrily. "Ramero thinks so, but he is mistaken," Jondo replied. "What makes you think he won't be?" I insisted. "Because I knew Father Josef before he became a priest, and why he took the vows," Jondo declared.
My uncle smiled affectionately on her. "I could give you a trial, as I gave her. I remember I told her if she could cook good meals I'd keep her; if not, she'd leave. Do you want to take the risk?" "That's where you'll get your journey of the prophecy, Eloise," Jondo suggested. "Well, you leave out the best part of it all," Mat broke in.
With neither Uncle Esmond nor Jondo near us for the first time in our remembrance, we gained a strength in self-dependence that we needed. For with the best of guardianship, there are many ways in which a child's day may be harried unless the child asserts himself. We had the years of children but the sturdy defiance of youth.
Meantime, Jondo at the front of his men charged into the very center of the savage battle-line as, furious for blood, they threshed across the narrow draw the disciplined arm and courageous heart against a blood-thirsty foe.
Says the child was made to come along, and as soon as he could get away from the gang he had to run with up here; he came right into camp to help us against them. Fine young fellow! Jondo has it from them in authority that we can trust him lyin' or tellin' the truth. He's all right." "How did he get hurt?" I inquired, still remembering in my own mind the day at Agua Fria.
The air was motionless and hot above us, the upper heavens were beginning to be threshed across by clouds, and the silence hung like a weight upon us. Then suddenly, just beyond the camp, a form rose from the ground, stood upright, and stretched out both arms toward us. And a low cry, "Take me. I die," reached our ears. Still Jondo commanded silence.
"You remember me, Santan, the Apache, at Fort Bent?" he questioned. Jondo looked keenly to be sure that his memory fitted the man before him. "Yes, you are Santan. You brought me a message from Father Josef once." The Indian's face did not change by the twitch of an eyelash as he replied. "I would bring another message from him. He would see you an hour later than you planned.
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