"Ugh!" said Ping. "No find boy. Heap pony lose too. Bad medicine."
It was only a little later when something remarkable happened to a picket in a path of the southern chaparral. He stood by his horse ready to mount, as was his duty, but he was very sure that no Indians were around, and he only now and then gave a listless glance along the path. Suddenly, within twenty yards of him, an Indian stepped out of the bushes.
"Halt!" sprang to the lips of the startled soldier, but the Indian held up both hands, empty, above his head, to show that he carried no weapons.
The challenge was heard by the men around the spring, and they sprang to their feet, while others came out of the bushes. A dozen rifles were ready behind the picket as the solitary Indian came forward. He wore nothing but a waist-cloth, and from the belt of this he drew something which he held out and offered.
"Take it, Brady," said the voice of Captain Moore. "Bring him in. He's a messenger of some kind."
The cavalryman took it, but it was nothing more than a leathery cactus leaf, as wide as a stretched-out hand.
"How," said the Indian. "Kah-go-mish."
"That's it," exclaimed Sam Herrick. "I reckoned we'd hear from him. Colorado!"
The leaf was passed to Captain Moore, and the Apache brave followed him, but only as far as the end of that pathway. There he stood, and seemed almost like a wooden Indian. He saw both Ping and Tah-nu-nu, and they saw him, but if they knew him they did not say so.
"They thought nobody saw 'em, but they were making signs," said Sam; and the old Chiricahua muttered, "Ugh! Good!" as if he had understood something.