The boy whirled and darted down the slope and into the brush again. When he returned he was mounted on a calico cayuse—his own horse, Navi.
There were two slain Apaches on the hogback, and between them Little Cayuse halted Navi, looking from one Indian to the other, and his hand hesitating about the handle of a scalping-knife that swung from his belt.
“Cayuse!” called Dell.
The boy turned his eyes upon the girl.
“You know what Pa-e-has-ka told you about taking scalps?” went on the girl.
“Wuh!”
Little Cayuse withdrew his hand hastily from the knife and dug his heels into Navi’s sides. His Piute nature craved the scalps, for on one of them he was entitled to a second eagle-feather; but the better side of his nature had listened to the teachings of the king of scouts, although profiting by the teachings reluctantly.
“Come!” said he, taking the lead and crossing the crest of the hogback.
Dell, leading Patterson’s mount, followed. Into and through the chaparral the little Piute led the girl and the helpless trooper, selecting ground whose flinty soil would leave no trail visible in the daylight.
As the boy rode, his eyes glimmered like an owl’s into the surrounding darkness, and he listened at every step like a coyote.