Chapter XV.
xcited and alarmed by the news brought by Ni-ha-be and Rita, Many Bears had forgotten to scold them; but when the story of their morning's adventure was related to Mother Dolores, that plump and dignified person felt bound to make up for the chief's neglect.
She scolded them in the longest and harshest words of the Apache language, and then in Mexican-Spanish, until she was out of breath. Finally Ni-ha-be exclaimed:
"I don't care, Mother Dolores; I hit one of them in the arm with an arrow. It went right through. Rita missed, but she isn't an Apache."
"Two young squaws!" said Dolores, scornfully. "Where would you have been now, and Red Wolf, too, if it wasn't for that old pale-face and his boy? What are your talking leaves good for? Why didn't they tell you to stay in camp?"
"I didn't ask them. Besides, that isn't what they're good for."
"Not good for much, anyhow. I don't believe they can even cure the pain in my bones."
Poor Dolores had never heard the story of the squaw who had a tract given her by a missionary, and who tied it on her sore foot, but her ideas of some of the uses of printing were not much more correct.