s! How came they here?"

He could hardly have been more astonished if one of the granite
bowlders near him had stood up and said, "Good-morning." So far as he
could have guessed, the nearest white man was many hundreds of miles
away, and his nation was at peace with them for the time; but here were
three of the hated race standing in the road to cut oft his retreat and
that of his sisters.

Three tall, brawny, evil-looking pale-faces, with rifles in their
hands, and the foremost of them was levelling his gun straight at Red
Wolf, and shouting, "Surrender, you red-skinned coyote, or I'll put a
pill into ye."

An Indian brave, like the son of Many Bears, might deem it an honor to
be named after the large, dangerous "wolf" he had killed in single
fight with only his knife, but to be called a coyote, a miserable
prairie wolf, jackal, was a bitter insult, and that was what it was
meant for. He had left his carbine in the camp, but his long lance was
in his hand, and his knife and revolver were in his belt.

What could one young brave do against three such powerful and
well-armed white men?

"Ni-ha-be!" exclaimed Rita.

"I am an Apache girl! I can fight! You are a pale-face!"

Rita was stung to her very heart by her sister's scornful reply, for
she had also brought her bow and arrows. They never stirred from camp
without them, and squaws were not permitted to carry firearms.

Ni-ha-be had an arrow already on the string, and Rita followed her
example like a flash.

"Red Wolf is a warrior. He is not a coyote. He will show the
pale-faces--"

Twang!

The sound of Ni-ha-be's bow-string cut Red Wolf's haughty reply in two
in the middle, and it was well for the miner "Bill" that he was quick
in dodging. As it was, he dropped his rifle, for there was an arrow
through his right arm above the elbow, and Ni-ha-be was fitting another.

Twang!

But the man at whom Rita aimed her arrow was an old Indian fighter, and
he parried it easily.

"Red Wolf, your pistol!"

"Boys," exclaimed Bill, "they're a lot of young wild-cats! We'll jest
have to shoot. Pick on the redskin, quick, and knock over the two
girls before they make a hole into ye."

The two parties were hardly twenty yards apart, and all this had
happened in a few seconds; but just then Red Wolf was exclaiming,

"Two more!"

And Rita said, excitedly,

"Stop, Ni-ha-be! See! They are fighting other. These two are
friends. Don't shoot!"