"All right, then, certainly, let's come on there; that'll do as well," said the American with assumed ease. Still keeping her hand in his, he turned in the direction indicated, and made a move as if to start. The other Navajos rapidly exchanged some sentences in their own language.
"You must leave your rifle if you go in there," said Mahletonkwa, turning to Stephens again after listening to what they said.
"No," replied he, "certainly not. I'm no prisoner. No treachery, Mahletonkwa." He slung himself round and faced the chief, placing himself directly in front of the captive girl, as if assuming possession of her.
"No treachery," re-echoed the Indian promptly, "only"—he hesitated to say what was in his mind, but Manuelita divined it instantly.
"Their water is in the cave in a great rock-hole," she said, "and he fears you will take cover in there and then shoot at him from thence."
"No, I won't, Mahletonkwa," said Stephens at once; "I won't do that, and I hadn't ever even thought of such a thing. It was your own suggestion that I should go there. I had rather go out in the middle of the meadow where I proposed first; there's no cover out in the meadow."
"No, not there," said Mahletonkwa; "better you go on into the cave"; and following his direction they went forward together hand in hand.
Right in under the lava bed there was visible a wide, overarching cavity extending some twenty or thirty feet back and at the far end of this lay a deep natural rock-cistern full of clear dark water. It was a hidden well.
"This is their spring," said the girl, pointing to it. "These Navajos know every secret water-spring in the country."
The extraordinary quickness with which she had mastered her feelings, and now the perfectly natural tone in which she spoke, and the straightforward way in which she referred to her captors, greatly relieved the American's anxiety; had she suffered at their hands what his knowledge of the nature of Indians had led him to dread, it seemed to him that she could not have spoken of them in this unembarrassed style. She had raised her eyes to his as she uttered the words, and though they were still wet with the tears that she had shed, their glance was frank and open; there was no trace in her mien of the dull despair of irreparable wrong he remembered in the victim of the Sioux. His relief was shown by the reassured expression in his own eyes as he returned her glance, and said lightly;