Bet's heart stood still. She had lost! Kit's eyes were shining with triumph.
But only for a moment. The Indian women were busily at work emptying the contents of their baskets into blankets. They were evidently preparing to give her the best they had. Bet got several small jar-like baskets besides two large ones that were used to carry things on their saddles.
They looked on in surprise when Bet paid them a good price for their baskets and passed over the strings of beads as well.
There was a chorus of grunts and Kit again translated. The squaws were congratulating themselves on their bargain. They were more than satisfied. "I've known Indians all my life," Kit whispered to the girls, "but I've never before seen them so pleased about anything! You win, Bet!"
"I certainly do, Kit Patten. Come on, girls, lend a hand and let's get these baskets home before they change their minds."
As they were going up the trail toward the ranch, Young Mary suddenly appeared from a thicket of Palo Verde.
"Kit," she said softly.
Kit turned as if she had been shot. "Mary," she answered uneasily.
"What's the matter?"
Kit ran to the girl who now hesitated as if she were addressing a stranger. Then suddenly, with what appeared to be an effort, she whispered: "Your old man! He's in the hut over in Rattlesnake Creek, and he's being guarded by some bad Indians from down the valley. Be careful!"
And before Kit could stop her to ask any more questions, the Indian girl glided away as softly as she had come.