There for an instant she paused and looked back. The five Indians were as motionless as the crouching black heaps they guarded. They held their guns in the hollow of their arms, while Jim, with raised arm, was speaking. Pen sobbed in her excitement. If Uncle Denny could see his boy!
She turned and ran up the trail like a little rabbit. It seemed to her that she never would reach the top. The camp sounds were faint and far before she reached the upper mesa and saw dimly a figure on a horse. It was an Indian who covered her with a gun as she panted up to him.
"Suma-theek and the Big Boss say for you to call in all the other Indians and come help them at the little power house. The whites are trying to lynch the hombres."
The Indian peered down into her face and grunted as he recognized her. Then he suddenly stood in his stirrups and raised the fearful cry that had emptied the moving picture hall.
"Ke-theek! Ke-theek! Ke-theek! (To me! To me! To me!)"
Pen stood by the pony's head, trembling yet exultant. This, then, she thought was the life men knew. No wonder Jim loved his job!
Up on the mesa top, the night wind rushed against the encircling stars. The Indian chuckled.
"Mexicans, they no bother whites tonight. They know Apache call, it heap devil."
The sound of hoofs began to beat in about the waiting two. "You go," said the Indian. "Back along upper trail, it safe."
Pen started on a run toward the upper camp.