He and Big John and Scotty pushed up rapidly toward the ledge as he passed word of his discovery. The Navaho were down below them in the ravine, straggling along in a thin line, watching the rock fearsomely, while the priests above chanted. This was the day when Neyani and his family were expected to die, or confess, or tell of some vision from the Ganhi, evidently.
Sid looked up. Neyani and his wife had long since given up hope, for they did not move. They squatted in the stony immovability of Indian pride, huddled on the bare top of the rock, enduring the thirst torture stolidly. But the girl was young, and life to her was yet sweet. She had moved and was now looking down at Sid, and her tongue stuck out at him, black and dry and revolting. At first the boy thought she was making a face at him; then he realized that she could not draw back her tongue! She had reached the last stages of thirst, when the tongue protrudes like a strangling person’s, black and cracked and dry. Her dark eyes looked down at him beseechingly.
“Gee, boys, do you see that?—Here! I can’t stand this!” barked Sid, tugging at his canteen. “That girl’s dying of thirst. I’ve been thirsty, too! I’m going to toss her up my canteen and let the Indians do what they please about it!”
At sight of it the girl stretched down her arms appealingly. Neyani and his wife might scorn to beg water, and their spirits still have stern command over their flesh, but the girl was young, and the all-devouring wants of her body drove out pride and all else in her overpowering desire for water, water, water!
A shout went up from the Navaho as Sid sprang up on the ledge, followed by Scotty and Big John. He motioned to toss up the canteen to the girl’s outstretched arms.
The qcali stopped, angrily. “No!” he grunted, in English. “White boy not dare!” A roar went up from the ravine below and knives flashed out, while men stooped to pick up rocks. The three medicine men crouched behind the qcali, their eyes blazing hate and defiance.
“No!” yelled the qcali, stretching out his arm in sign to halt.
“Yes!—Darn you! Have you no pity?” shouted Sid, stooping to toss up the canteen to the girl’s waiting hands.
On the motion the qcali leaped for him, his three assistants at his back—but that was as far as they got! For Big John had leaped in front, and his guns had flashed out like two level bars of light. It was the first time the boys had ever seen a gun thrown, and the speed and certainty of it was astonishing.
“Back off, thar, Injun!—or I’ll fill you so full of bullets they’ll put ye in the ammynition wagon instead of the ambulance!” gritted Big John’s quiet, iron-hard tones. “You leave the boy alone!”