“Shoz-Dijiji!” exclaimed King.
“Shoz-Dijiji, war chief of the Be-don-ko-he Apaches,” replied the Apache Devil.
“And you’re on the war path. That doesn’t look so good for me, does it, Shoz-Dijiji?”
“Shoz-Dijiji not on war trail now. Shoz-Dijiji good Indian now. Go in cattle business.”
In the moonlight King saw the grim half smile that accompanied the words of the Indian, but he made no reply. Apache humor was something that he did not pretend to understand. All he knew about it was that upon occasion it might be hideous.
“Mebbe so you like go in cattle business with Shoz-Dijiji?” suggested the Apache.
“I guess that whatever you say goes,” replied the officer.
“All right. Take this horse.” The Indian indicated the led horse at his side. “Now you help drive our cattle. Sabe?”
King grinned. “Perfectly,” he said.
Slowly the two men urged the cattle onward until at dawn they came to a patch of meadow land well within the mountain range they had entered shortly after meeting. There was water there and good grazing and little likelihood that the tired animals would wander far from either.