"I am an Apache girl. I can fight. You are a pale-face."
Rita was stung to her very heart by her sister's scornful reply, for she had also brought her bow and arrows. They never stirred from camp without them, and squaws were not permitted to carry fire-arms.
Ni-ha-be had an arrow already on the string, and Rita followed her example like a flash.
"Red Wolf is a warrior. He is not a coyote. He will show the pale-faces—"
Twang!
The sound of Ni-ha-be's bowstring cut Red Wolf's haughty reply in two in the middle, and it was well for the miner "Bill" that he was quick in dodging. As it was, he dropped his rifle, for there was an arrow through his right arm above the elbow, and Ni-ha-be was fitting another.
Twang!
But the man at whom Rita aimed her arrow was an old Indian fighter, and he parried it easily.
"Red Wolf, your pistol!"
"Boys," exclaimed Bill, "they're a lot of young wildcats! We'll jest have to shoot. Pick off the red-skin, quick, and knock over the two girls before they make a hole into ye."