Hano explained rapidly in Apache, much of which the Navaho understood. He had scarcely time for more when the swift click of hound nails and the angry bellow of Ruler came out of the night. The dog rushed up toward Hano, barking savagely, tugging along Scotty who was holding back with all his strength on the leash. To a dog all strangers are enemies!
“What’s all this, Niltci?” queried Scotty—“Good Lord!”
He stopped astounded and stared up at what was evidently a strange Indian on Sid’s horse.
“Apache!” said Niltci. “Him come from Master Sid. Say all right. Must come quick.”
“Is Sid hurt?” asked Scotty grimly.
“No. Him with Apache. Wants us to come quick,” reiterated the Navaho.
“Well, I’ll be darned! Keep your eye on him, Niltci—it may be some damned ruse. We’ll take him in to see Big John and see what he says about it,” decided Scotty.
Walking on each side of Sid’s pinto, with rifles poised and ready for any treachery, they took Hano back to the camp at Papago Tanks. Big John roused out at their coming and threw a heap of brush on the fire.
“Jeemently-ding!—what you got thar!” he called out as the party came in. “An Injun on Sid’s pony!—whar’d ye git him?—Say, fellers, I’m just sufferin’ for the news!”
Scotty told him all Niltci had been able to learn from Hano during their march and then added the tale of their own discovery of the Mexicans.