Shoz-Dijiji had turned away from Cheetim just in time to meet Gian-nah-tah’s attack. Quickly he leaped aside as the knife fell and then sprang close again and seized Gian-nah-tah’s knife wrist with the fingers of his left hand. Like a steel vise his grip tightened. Gian-nah-tah struck at him with his free hand, but Shoz-Dijiji warded the blow.
“Drop it!” commanded the Black Bear and struck Gian-nah-tah across the face with his open palm. The latter struggled to free himself, striking futilely at the giant that held him.
“Drop it!” repeated Shoz-Dijiji. Again he struck Gian-nah-tah—and again, and again. His grasp tightened upon the other’s wrist, stopping the circulation—until Gian-nah-tah thought that his bones were being crushed. His fingers relaxed. The knife clattered to the floor. Shoz-Dijiji stooped quickly and recovered it; then he released his hold upon Gian-nah-tah.
“Go!” commanded the Black Bear, pointing toward the doorway.
For an instant Gian-nah-tah hesitated; then he turned and walked from the room. Without even a glance in the direction of Cheetim, Shoz-Dijiji followed his friend. As they passed the bar the girl called Goldie smiled into the face of Shoz-Dijiji.
“Come down and see me sometime, John,” she said.
Without a word or a look the Apache passed out of the building, away from the refining influences of white man’s civilization.
Sullenly, Gian-nah-tah walked to where two ponies were tied. From the tie-rail he unfastened the hackamore rope of one of them and vaulted to the animal’s back. In silence Shoz-Dijiji handed Gian-nah-tah his knife. In silence the other Apache took it, wheeled his pony, and loped away toward the Be-don-ko-he village. Astride Nejeunee Shoz-Dijiji followed slowly—erect, silent, somber; only his heart was bowed, in sorrow.
As Shoz-Dijiji approached the village he met Geronimo and two warriors riding in the direction of the military post. They were angry and excited. The old War Chief beckoned Shoz-Dijiji to join them.
“What has happened?” asked the Black Bear.