“The Apache Devil!” cried Luis.
Shoz-Dijiji looked quickly at him. “Lie down!” he said to him in Spanish. Already he had commenced to shoot. He asked no questions. A man fell.
In the back room Cheetim and Wichita heard the dread name as Luis cried it aloud. Cheetim had just entered and closed the door behind him. He was approaching Wichita as Luis spoke the name of the scourge of three states. At the first shot Cheetim crossed the room at a bound and leaped from the window. A half dozen shots followed in quick succession. Four men lay dead in the outer room when Shoz-Dijiji sprang to the door of the smaller room and swung it open, just in time to see Cheetim mounting a horse in the rear of the building. He recognized him instantly; then he turned toward the girl.
“You hurt?” he demanded.
“No. Oh, Shoz-Dijiji, thank God, you came!”
The Apache called to Luis who came running to the door. “You,” he said, pointing at the youth. “You know the Apache Devil. You know what he do to his enemies. You take this girl home. If she don’t get home safe the Apache Devil settle with you. Sabe?”
He crossed the room to the window.
“Where are you going?” cried Wichita.
“To kill my last pindah-lickoyee,” replied Shoz-Dijiji, as he vaulted across the sill.
“Wait! Wait, Shoz-Dijiji,” the girl called after him; but Shoz-Dijiji, war chief of the Be-don-ko-he, war chief of all the Apaches, had gone.