The Talking Leaves | Page 6

She herself could do so very well, but neither she
nor any of her friends or relatives could speak more than a few words
of broken English, and she had never heard Rita use one.

"There are many pictures."
"Ugh! yes. That's a mountain, like those up yonder. There are lodges,
too, in the valley. But nobody ever made lodges in such a shape as
that."
"Yes, or nobody could have painted a talking picture of them."
"It tells a lie, Rita! And nobody ever saw a bear like that."
"It isn't a bear, Ni-ha-be. The talking leaf says it's a lion."
"What's that? A white man's bear?"
Rita knew no more about lions than did her adopted sister, but by the
time they had turned over a few more pages their curiosity was aroused
to a high degree. Even Ni-ha-be wanted to hear all that the "talking
leaves" might have to say in explanation of those wonderful pictures.
It was too bad of Rita to have been "born white" and not to be able to
explain the work of her own people at sight.
"What shall we do with them, Ni-ha-be?"
"Show them to father."
"Why not ask Red Wolf?"
"He would take them away and burn them. He hates the pale-faces
more and more every day."
"I don't believe he hates me."
"Of course not. You're an Apache now. Just as much as Mother
Dolores, and she's forgotten that she was ever white."
"She isn't very white, Ni-ha-be. She's darker than almost any other
woman in the tribe."

"We won't show her the talking leaves till father says we may keep
them. Then she'll be afraid to touch them. She hates me."
"No, she doesn't. She likes me best, that's all."
"She'd better not hate me, Rita. I'll have her beaten if she isn't good to
me. I'm an Apache!"
The black-eyed daughter of the great chief had plenty of self-will and
temper. There could be no doubt of that. She sprang upon her mustang
with a quick, impatient bound, and Rita followed, clinging to her prizes,
wondering what would be the decision of Many Bears and his
councillors as to the ownership of them.
A few minutes of swift riding brought the two girls to the border of the
camp.
"Rita? Red Wolf!"
"I see him--he is coming to meet us, but he does not want us to think
so."
That was a correct guess.
The tall, hawk-nosed young warrior, who was now riding toward them,
was a perfect embodiment of Indian haughtiness, and even his sister
was a mere "squaw" in his eyes. As for Rita, she was not only a squaw
but also not even a full-blooded Apache, and was to be looked down
upon accordingly.
He was an Indian and a warrior, and would one day be a chief like his
father.
Still, he had so far unbent his usual cold dignity as to turn his horse to
meet that sisterly pair, if only to find out why they were in such a
hurry.
"What scare you?"

"We're not scared. We've found something--pale-face sign."
"Apache warriors do not ask squaws if there are pale-faces near them.
The chiefs know all; their camp was by the spring."
"Was it?" exclaimed Ni-ha-be. "We have found some of their talking
leaves. Rita must show them to father."
"Show them to me!"
"No. You are an Apache; you cannot hear what they say: Rita can--she
is white."
"Ugh! Show leaves, now!"
Ni-ha-be was a "squaw," but she was also something of a spoiled child,
and was less afraid of her brother than he may have imagined. Besides,
the well-known rule of the camp, or of any Indian camp, was in her
favor.
All "signs" were to be reported to the chief by the finder, and Ni-ha-be
would make her report to her father like a warrior.
Rita was wise enough to say nothing, and Red Wolf was compelled to
soften his tone a little. He even led the way to the spot near the spring
where the squaws of Many Bears were already putting up his "lodge."
There was plenty of grass and water in that valley, and it had been
decided to rest the horses there for three days, before pushing on deeper
into the Apache country.
The proud old chief was not lowering his dignity to any such work as
lodge-pitching. He would have slept on the bare ground without a
blanket before he would have touched one pole with a finger.
That was "work for squaws," and all that could be expected of him was
that he should stand near and say "Ugh!" pleasantly, when things were
going to please him, and to say it in a different tone if they were not.

Ni-ha-be and Rita were favorites of