"We've fixed it all right," he said, "so don't you fret, señorita. I was real sorry to have to keep you so long in suspense, but I couldn't well help it. I'll explain all that to you later. But peace is made, and we're going back to San Remo together, you and me, along with the Navajos, and we'll start right away. But I've got to go over to where I left my party yonder in the Lave Beds, and explain the whole arrangement to them. Otherwise there might be considerable of a fuss. Now, don't you fret," he took her hand again to reassure her, "you'll be all right, and I won't be gone many minutes. You're sure, now, you won't get scared?"
"If you say you will come back," she answered, "I know you will come back, and I will try to be brave till you do."
With one glad pressure of her hand and one more long look into her eyes he turned away and left her. She watched his active steps as he hastened across the oasis and sprang up the broken lava rocks beyond. On the summit he turned and looked back in her direction, and waved his hand as a signal to her that all was well. Five minutes later he bounded down into the grassy opening where his mare was feeding with the four horses of the Pueblos. The cacique and the three others ran to meet him.
"How have you succeeded?" exclaimed the cacique. "Who was that shooting? Have you shot any of them?"
"Not me," replied Stephens. "I've been making peace, I have. I found Mahletonkwa had just as lief trade as fight, and a bit more so. 'Ditto,' says I to that, and just talked peace talk to him, and we made things square. Cacique, you were plumb right about Whailahay; they haven't harmed the girl. I've fixed it up with them about compensation for their dear departed, and we 're all going back to San Remo together, to take her home and get the silver for them. See?"
The cacique looked rather disconcerted. "I don't want to join company with these Navajos out here," he said decidedly.
"Oh, I didn't mean you," rejoined the American; "I quite understand that you might feel a delicacy in obtruding yourself on them out here in No-man's-land. They might have heard of that little affair of the seven Navajos in the sweat-house, eh? and this might seem a good time and place to pay off old scores?" His spirits had gone up with a bound, and he found it impossible not to chaff the cacique a little. "No, Cacique; you brought me here upon their trail just like a smell-dog, as I wanted you to do, and I've managed the rest of the business myself. Now, what I want you to do is to take their back trail and meet Don Nepomuceno and his party—they're sure to have found it again by now and to be following it up—and you tell them how I've fixed things, and say the señorita's all right and we'll meet them in San Remo. Stop, I'll write it down here on a scrap of paper and you can take it to them; that'll be best." He produced a pencil and a small note-book, tore out a leaf and hastily wrote on it his message to the Mexican. "There, Cacique," said he handing it to him, "give that to Don Nepomuceno when you see him, and tell him the whole show. I'd like to have you wait and meet us at San Remo if you get back there before us. Hasta luego."
He gathered up the riata of the mare, and started to pick his way with her through the Lava Beds to the oasis where the Navajos were camped, while the Pueblos speedily made themselves scarce in the opposite direction.
By the time Stephens reached the camp the Navajos had collected their scanty equipment and bound it on their saddles; they all took a long drink of pure, cool water from the hidden "tinaja" or rock-cistern, and, leading their animals, made the best of their way over the Lava Beds to the open country. Stephens explained to Mahletonkwa before starting that he had arranged for his party to return to San Remo by the route they came.
"Bueno," said Mahletonkwa shortly, "and we will go by another. I know many trails through the sierra; there is one that I like well, and I will take you by it."