The Talking Leaves | Page 2

other wild animals
to be found among those mountain passes, but they were not likely to
remain very near a band of hunters like the one now gathered in that

valley.
Great hunters, brave warriors, well able to take care of themselves and
their families, but just now they were very much excited about
something--something on the ground.
The younger braves, to the number of more than a hundred, were
standing back respectfully, while the older and more experienced
warriors carefully examined a number of deep marks on the grass
around a bubbling spring.
There had been a camp there not long before, and the first discovery
made by the foremost Apache who had ridden up to that spring was
that it had not been a camp of his own people.
The prints of the hoofs of horses showed that they had been shod, and
there are neither horseshoes nor blacksmiths among the red men of the
South-west.
The tracks left by the feet of men were not such as can be made by
moccasins. There are no heels on moccasins, and no nails in the soles
of them.
Even if there had been Indian feet in the boots, the toes would not have
been turned out in walking. Only white men do that.
So much was plain at a mere glance; but there were a good many other
things to be studied and interpreted before Many Bears and his
followers could feel satisfied.
It was a good deal like reading a newspaper. Nobody tears one up till it
has been read through, and the Apaches did not trample the ground
around the spring till they had searched out all that the other tramplings
could tell them.
Then the dark-faced, ferocious looking warriors who had made the
search all gathered around their chief and, one after another, reported
what they had found.

There had been a strong party of white men at that spot three days
before; three wagons, drawn by mule teams; many spare mules;
twenty-five men who rode horses, besides the men who drove the
wagons.
"Were they miners?"
Every warrior and chief was ready to say "No" at once.
"Traders?"
No, it could not have been a trading-party.
"All right," said Many Bears, with a solemn shake of his gray head.
"Blue-coats--cavalry. Come from Great Father at Washington--no stay
in Apache country--go right through--not come back--let them go."
Indian sagacity had hit the nail exactly on the head; for that had been a
camp of a United States military exploring expedition, looking for
passes and roads, and with instructions to be as friendly as possible
with any wandering red men they might meet.
Nothing could be gained by following such a party as that, and Many
Bears and his band began at once to arrange their own camp, for their
morning's march through the pass had been a long and fatiguing one.
If the Apache chief had known a very little more, he would have sent
his best scouts back upon the trail that squad of cavalry had come by,
till he found out whether all who were travelling by that road had
followed it as far as the spring. He might thus have learned something
of special importance to him. Then, at the same time, he would have
sent other scouts back upon his own trail, to see if anybody was
following him, and what for. He might have learned a good deal more
important news in that way.
He did nothing of the kind; and so a very singular discovery was left
for Rita and Ni-ha-be to make, without any help at all.

As they rode out from the narrow pass, down the mountain-side, and
came into the valley, it was the most natural thing in the world for them
to start their swift mustangs on a free gallop; not directly toward the
camping-place, for they knew well enough that no girls of any age
would be permitted to approach very near to warriors gathered in
council. Away to the right they rode, following the irregular curve of
the valley, side by side, managing the fleet animals under them as if
horse and rider were one person.
So it came to pass that before the warriors had completed their task the
two girls had struck the trail along which the blue-coated cavalry had
entered the valley.
"Rita, I see something."
"What is it?"
"Come! See! Away yonder."
Rita's eyes were as good as anybody's, always excepting Apaches' and
eagles', and she could see the white fluttering object at which her
adopted sister was pointing.
The marks of the wheels and all the other signs of that trail, as they
rode along, were quite enough to excite a pair of young ladies who had
never seen a road, a