shall not hide it!" cried Ramona, indignantly. "It is our own cow.
Alessandro killed it to-day."

"They won't believe you!" said the woman, in distress. "They'll take it
all away. Oh, hide some of it!" And she dragged a part of it across the
floor, and threw it under the bed, Ramona standing by, stupefied.

Before she had spoken again, the forms of the galloping riders darkened
the doorway; the foremost of them, leaping off his horse, exclaimed:
"By God! here's the rest of it. If they ain't the damnedest impudent
thieves! Look at this woman, cutting it up! Put that down, will you?
We'll save you the trouble of dryin' our meat for us, besides killin'
it! Fork over, now, every bit you've got, you--" And he called Ramona by
a vile epithet.

Every drop of blood left Ramona's face. Her eyes blazed, and she came
forward with the knife uplifted in her hand. "Out of my house, you dogs
of the white color!" she said. "This meat is our own; my husband killed
the creature but this morning."

Her tone and bearing surprised them. There were six of the men, and they
had all swarmed into the little room.

"I say, Merrill," said one of them, "hold on; the squaw says her husband
only jest killed it to-day. It might be theirs."

Ramona turned on him like lightning. "Are you liars, you all," she
cried, "that you think I lie? I tell you the meat is ours; and there is
not an Indian in this village would steal cattle!"

A derisive shout of laughter from all the men greeted this speech; and
at that second, the leader, seeing the mark of blood where the Indian
woman had dragged the meat across the ground, sprang to the bed, and
lifting the deerskin, pointed with a sneer to the beef hidden there.
"Perhaps, when you know Injun's well's I do," he said, "you won't be for
believin' all they say! What's she got it hid under the bed for, if it
was their own cow?" and he stooped to drag the meat out. "Give us a hand
here, Jake!"

"If you touch it, I will kill you!" cried Ramona, beside herself with
rage; and she sprang between the men, her uplifted knife gleaming.

"Hoity-toity!" cried Jake, stepping back; "that's a handsome squaw when
she's mad! Say, boys, let's leave her some of the meat. She wasn't to
blame; of course, she believes what her husband told her."

"You go to grass for a soft-head, you Jake!" muttered Merrill, as he
dragged the meat out from beneath the bed.

"What is all this?" said a deep voice in the door; and Ramona, tur