Shoz-Dijiji was squatting near the wives of the dead Cochise listening to them wail when suddenly out of the deep woods came the hoot of an owl. Instantly all was silence; the wailing ceased and the women looked at one another in terror.
“Listen!” whispered one of the squaws. “It is the spirit of Cochise, he has returned and he is trying to speak to us. What does he want?”
“Have we not done everything to make him happy on his journey to chidin-bi-kungua, the house of spirits?” demanded another.
“He is not happy, he has come back,” whimpered a young squaw and then with a muffled scream, she lifted a shaking finger and pointed toward the black woods. “Look! It is he, come back.”
They all looked. To their overwrought imaginations, harried by days of mourning and ages of superstition, anything was possible, and so it was not strange that they should see the vague and nebulous outlines of a warrior standing among the deep shadows of the trees. They shuddered and hid their faces in their blankets, and when they dared look again the apparition had disappeared.
Attracted by their screams some warriors had joined them, and when they heard the cause of the women’s terror they sent for Na-kay-do-klunni to arrange for a feast and a dance that the spirit of Cochise might be appeased and made happy on its journey to chidin-bi-kungua.
The sorrows of death do not lie heavily or for long upon the spirit of youth and so on the morrow the children romped and played and Shoz-Dijiji organized a rabbit hunt with Gian-nah-tah, his best friend, and a dozen others who could borrow or steal ponies for the purpose. Laughing and joking, they rode down to the plain at the foot of the mountains, each lad armed with a hunting club.
A mile behind them a childish figure astride a pinto pony lashed its mount with a rawhide quirt in an effort to overtake the loping ponies of the boys, and when the latter halted to discuss their plans the belated one overtook them. The first boy to discover and recognize the newcomer raised a shout of derision.
“A girl! A girl!” he cried. “Go back to camp. Only warriors follow the chase, go back to camp with the squaws and the children.”
But the little girl did not go back. Her dishevelled hair flying, she rode among them.