After him every brave in the tribe, down to the little boys of eight, stood and did the same thing, that act of reverence to the Earth and Sun, the most important of the creations of the Great Mystery, which ethnologists often stupidly report as sun worship, earth worship. But Sid knew that, like their nature worship, it was really reverencing the Great Mystery through His creations. He had long ago adopted that viewpoint as his own, and was about to share in the ceremony himself, claiming the privilege as an adopted Blackfoot, when a soft footfall along the path drew his attention.
The girl Nahla was approaching the medicine lodge! She bore food and water for her husband, the prisoner. Sid felt tingles of excitement running all through him as he rose and walked rapidly after her.
“Nahla!” he called, as soon as they were far enough away from the rest of the village to be alone.
The girl turned and faced him.
“Do not enter!” he said softly in Apache.
“Oh, have they killed him?” she almost shrieked. “Hai—I hate you!” Like a fury she faced the bewildered Sid. It was his first experience with women—the instant feminine jumping to conclusions, the fierce and unreasoning hate for the cause of her sorrows.
“No. He lives; but do not enter the lodge, I beg you. You must trust in me, Nahla!” said Sid earnestly.
The girl shrugged her shoulders scornfully. “Pah! And is my husband to go without food and drink!” she spat out. With a lithe, sudden dash she had reached the lodge door and put her hand on the plumed prayer stick that held it shut.
Sid leaped after her. “No!” he barked. “Listen, Nahla—Hano is gone! I freed him. I sent him. They do not know, yet.”
The girl turned about, suspicion burning in her black eyes. “You?” Rapidly anguish filled her whole expression, then anger. “You made him run away!” she accused. “You made him break his honor—you, white man with a serpent’s tongue!”