“Then Shoz-Dijiji will at least die like a man and a warrior,” replied the Black Bear.
“Have we not troubles enough without quarrelling among ourselves?” demanded Geronimo.
“And now Gian-nah-tah is bringing more trouble into our camp,” said Chihuahua. “Look!” and he pointed toward the young warrior, who was walking toward them.
In each hand Gian-nah-tah carried a bottle of whiskey, and his slightly unsteady gait was fair evidence that he had been drinking. He approached the group of men, women, and children and extended one of the bottles toward Geronimo. The old chief took a long drink and passed the bottle to Na-chi-ta.
Shoz-Dijiji stood eyeing them silently. By no changed expression did he show either disapproval or its opposite; but when Na-chi-ta passed the whiskey on to him, after having drunk deeply, he shook his head and grinned.
“Why do you smile?” demanded Na-chi-ta.
“Because now I shall not turn back into Mexico alone,” replied the Black Bear.
“Why do you say that?” asked Geronimo.
The bottle went the rounds, though all did not drink. Chihuahua was one who did not.
“Where did you get this, Gian-nah-tah?” asked Geronimo.